by Janet Dailey
“I just didn’t,” Zach said irritably. “So stop yapping at me. My ears are ringing. Everything hurts.” His gaze moved over her. “Except looking at you.”
Chapter 11
The Christmas House closed to the public an hour later. Most of the volunteers had gone home by the time Zach tried to sneak past Edith, unsuccessfully. She extracted the whole story from him in less than five minutes and blocked his way.
“You’re going straight to the hospital, young man.”
“Been there.” Zach slid up the white cuff of his red fur coat and showed her the paper-strip ID around his wrist. “Got the bracelet.”
“I can’t believe they discharged you,” Edith fretted. “You can hardly walk.”
Zach reached out and put a hand on the stair rail to steady himself. “They told me I would feel worse before I felt better. That seems to be true. But I can still put one foot in front of the other.”
Paula put herself into the conversation. “Everything’s under control, Edith. Really.”
“I still don’t understand why he even came in,” she replied. “And you and I spoke on the phone this morning,” she scolded Zach. “Not one hint of this did I get.”
“I wanted to be here. I thought the kids would cheer me up,” he replied. “And you know what? They did.”
“Oh, my Lord. When I think of those adorable children climbing all over our suffering Santa . . . You are a hero, Zachary Bennett. A wounded hero.”
Paula suppressed a smile. That was over the top, even for Edith. But Paula thought better of him for keeping his promise and making little kids happy. Even if it was stupid of Zach to drag himself here when he should be resting.
There was a knock on the glass doors. Edith turned around. “That’s Brandon.” She went to unlock the doors.
Zach smirked at Paula. “How come you don’t say things like that to me?”
Paula gave him a level look. “Edith beat me to it.”
He grinned as if he didn’t believe that excuse for a second.
“Gram, just let me talk to him.” Brandon had come in and was walking quickly across the floor toward them. “Wow. You look like crap,” he said to Zach.
Teenage tact. Nothing like it, Paula thought. But Zach didn’t seem offended.
“The truck looks worse,” he said.
“Totaled? That’s major, dude. What can I do to help? I could be, like, your driver until you get better.”
Edith squawked and Zach flinched. “No,” he said. “You just got your learner’s permit.”
It took another half hour before Paula persuaded Edith to let them go. The older woman got a promise out of Zach before she would even unlock the front door.
“I won’t come in tomorrow,” Zach said. “You have my word.”
He got a grip on the iron railing and began slowly descending the mansion’s front stairs.
Paula watched, shaking her head. He was managing without her assistance. But she wasn’t letting him take a step more than he had to once he got to the sidewalk. She turned to Brandon and tossed him her keys. “Can you bring my car around to the front?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, kid.” Zach had stopped to rest.
Brandon returned with the car, turning it around in the middle of the street and pulling up right in front before he got out. He opened the passenger door and moved out of the way. Zach used the car roof to lower himself into the front seat most of the way.
Brandon watched Zach get his right leg inside by lifting it with his jeans. The boy’s dark brows drew together with worry. But he kept it to himself. “You in?” he asked Zach.
“Whew. Yeah.”
Paula went around to the driver’s side, calling good night to Edith, who still watched anxiously from inside the front doors.
“Call us when you get home,” Brandon insisted.
She smiled at him. When he said that, he sounded a lot like his grandmother. “Will do. Thanks, Brandon.”
Paula got in and drove off slowly.
She didn’t see the two boys who watched Brandon from the shadows. They looked up at the sign over the Christmas House door as Brandon walked underneath it and inside.
“He got away.”
“This time,” the one with the blond mustache said in a low voice.
“I was about to jump him in the parking lot.” The mohawk on the other boy had been shaved. His sweatshirt hood seemed stuck to his head. “Don’t think he saw me.”
“Guess not.”
The boy in the sweatshirt scratched his scalp. “Do we need him to get in there?”
“Nah. But it would be fun to get him in trouble.”
“You really think they’re takin’ in a lot of money?”
“I counted the people going in one time,” the blond boy said. “Five dollars, ten dollars—it adds up. Yeah. Bet it’s mostly cash. Brandon oughta know where they keep it.”
Paula was still driving too carefully for Zach as they neared her apartment.
“You don’t have to baby me,” he said.
“There are rough patches and icy spots.”
“I don’t think I would feel it if you drove over an alligator.”
“Not a lot of those crawling around Denver,” Paula replied in a light tone. “I think it’s New York that has them. Anyway, hero, where do you want to go? Jake’s place?”
There was a pause. “I can’t stand his girlfriend. She thinks I wore out my welcome as it is.”
“The heart-of-gold type, huh? How about a hotel?”
“A room will cost a fortune even if I could get one.”
Answers she’d expected to hear. “Okay. That leaves my apartment.”
“Yeah.” He turned to look at her. “Don’t worry. I don’t have the strength to do anything that would upset you. And I’m not asking for the bed. I just need an upholstered surface to lie down on. A rug would even do. Throw a blanket over me.”
“As if I would make you sleep on the floor,” she said indignantly. “You can have the sofa.”
They drove on in silence. Zach put his head back against the headrest. “Thanks,” he said. “That’ll work.”
Getting him inside her apartment took awhile. He reached the sofa and lowered himself onto it as Paula hung up her coat. She put away the basic groceries she’d stopped to buy at the convenience market en route. Coffee, milk, breakfast rolls. She had bacon and eggs. There was takeout barbecue in the fridge too.
“Good job,” she said, returning to the living room. “Now let’s get those boots off.”
Zach leaned forward to untie them and gave up. “Oof. I can’t.”
“Take off your Santa belt.”
He unbuckled the wide patent-leather belt around his middle, then slipped it off and handed it to her.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll just leave the boots on,” he said.
“Not a good idea.” Paula pulled out a low stool and brought it over. She kneeled and picked apart the knot in one set of bootlaces and then the other. Very carefully, she eased the boot off one foot.
“I’m going to take a look under the flexible cast,” she told him.
“Okay. Nothing hurts below the knees,” he said.
She removed the other boot and used the stool to support his foot before she pulled back the self-fastening straps of the cast.
“Give it to me straight, doc. Is my foot going to fall off?”
“There’s some bruising around your ankle but it’s not too swollen. You still have to stay off it as much as possible. I’m surprised they didn’t give you crutches.”
“They offered. I said no.”
Paula just shook her head. Men liked to think they could walk away from crashes. A lot of them did—and then they keeled over. She skipped the lecture. He wouldn’t listen anyway.
“You seem to know your stuff,” he commented.
“I dated an EMT guy for a long time. Sometimes I went along on ambulance runs. I read the manuals.”
Zach j
ust looked at her. She could hear the question in his mind. So what happened with that?
“Neither of us was ever home much. So we decided to end it. That was awhile ago.”
Zach nodded. “That’s how it goes. People move on.”
“Other foot, please. I want you to be able to walk out of here in the morning,” she said sweetly. She didn’t want him to get too comfortable. Paula repeated the same exam.
“This one looks okay too. Want to keep the casts off for a while? Did they confiscate your socks?”
“Yeah. The orderly said something about a biohazard.”
“Bare feet won’t hurt you.”
“I should keep them elevated,” he replied.
He hitched himself around until he was in a better position. Then he stretched out and lifted his feet over the arm of the sofa, wiggling his toes.
For a few seconds, Zach just lay there in his red pants and jacket. Without the pillows to fill it out, the furry material rumpled into folds around him. The matching hat with the pom-pom had been left in the car. His thick, dark hair badly needed combing.
“Thanks for the help,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Hope I’m not imposing on you too much.”
“I’ll let you know if you do. How are your other aches and pains?”
Zach sighed and settled in. “About the same.”
Paula chuckled. “Poor Santa. Next time steer clear of the chimney.”
“Very funny.”
“Do you want to take a couple of those pills?” She had his prescription meds in her purse, along with his wallet.
“I guess I should. The ER nurse said not to tough it out. Hey, where’s that duffel bag?”
“What duffel bag?”
“Mine. I must have left it in Jake’s car,” he grumbled. “It has all my clothes and a pair of sneakers.”
“Text him.”
“Not this late,” Zach said. “I guess I’ll just sleep in the Santa suit. It’s roomy. I don’t mind.”
“Up to you. I’ll get you a glass of water and the pills,” she said, looking him over. “And a blanket and a pillow in case you need them. Then I’m going to bed.”
“Okay. I really appreciate this, Paula.”
“Happy to help.”
She looked at the labels on the vials. He’d been given an anti-inflammatory and extra-strength painkillers. Zach would sleep.
She shook out the correct number of pills and put them on a plate with a glass of water. He propped himself up on one elbow to swallow them. Paula brought the bedding in and set it down by the sofa. “You’re all set.”
“Guess so. Thanks again.”
She walked away, shutting her bedroom door with a tiny click.
Paula woke up before dawn, looking around at her room, which seemed to be much darker than usual. Drowsily, she tried to figure out what was different and realized that her bedroom door was closed, something she never did.
The reason why it was closed was snoring unromantically on the other side of the door. She got up and reached for her robe, tying the sash firmly around her waist.
Paula turned the doorknob slowly. Zach was sprawled on the sofa, still sound asleep. He hadn’t used the blanket, just the pillow. The apartment was a little too warm. The colder the weather got, the more the heat kicked up.
He’d taken off the Santa jacket. He’d worn a black tank top underneath it. With one arm thrown back over his head, the rise and fall of his muscular chest was evident.
Paula pressed her lips together. He was out cold. She could treat herself to a good, long look at him and he’d never know. His massive body was completely relaxed and his breathing was steady.
The pallor in his face from exhaustion and shock was gone, replaced by a healthy flush of color. No more circles under his eyes either. His enviably thick masculine eyelashes showed up nicely.
He certainly looked comfortable. The Santa pants made good pajamas, with lots of room for those big legs. There was a gap between the waistband and his rumpled tank top that revealed more taut muscle and a narrow trace of dark hair that ran up to his chest.
And down. There was nothing naughty to see. But it was all nice.
Zach heaved a sudden sigh and stirred.
Paula stood still. He didn’t wake up. He must still be dreaming. She would have to be quiet.
She moved softly over the floor on her way to the bathroom, giving him one last look over her shoulder before she closed the door and took a shower.
Paula took her time. She exited in a cloud of steam, wrapped up even more, with a towel over her robed shoulders and one in a turban covering her hair. One glance at Zach told her he was still sound asleep and not faking it.
By the time she was out of her bedroom, dressed in most of her uniform, except the shoes, he was sitting up, scruffing a hand through his tangled hair.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Not too bad.” He yawned and looked her over. “You going to work?”
Paula nodded. “But there’s time for breakfast.”
“Can I take you out?”
“Everything we need is in the fridge.”
Zach shifted on the sofa, about to get up. “I feel like a mooch.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a rain check on the breakfast.”
“Okay. Make that a champagne brunch,” he added. He rose slowly but he didn’t seem to be in pain. “Hey. I can stand on my own two feet again.”
“Great. But don’t rush it.”
Zach tested her advice by taking a few steps. “Not as swollen. The ankles still hurt a little.”
“Come in the kitchen and sit down while I make breakfast.”
He obeyed, taking the creaky chair. Paula got out eggs and butter and toast. “Scrambled eggs all right with you?”
“Whatever you’re having. Don’t go to any trouble.”
She cooked; he looked around. The early morning sun brightened the kitchen with pale winter light.
The toast popped when the eggs were done. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, sliding the food onto two plates.
“Yeah. But I’m starving. This looks great.” He devoured his eggs and started in on the toast while Paula ate her meal more slowly.
Zach waved his slice at her. “You’re an angel, you know that?”
“Hardly.”
“I had a great dream. A beautiful woman in white was walking through a mist. She came close enough to touch—and then I started to wake up.”
“That was me. I took a long, hot shower and steamed up the place.”
Zach chuckled. “Okay, so it wasn’t a dream. But you did me good.”
Paula got up to clear away the plates and start the coffeemaker.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’ll text Jake, see if he can bring my duffel.”
“Here?”
“No. The Christmas House. I want to drop off this suit. Norville is next,” he said with satisfaction. “Edith said he’d be my replacement.”
“He’ll be swimming in it,” Paula laughed. “But you promised her you wouldn’t show up today.”
“So long as I’m not working, she won’t pitch a fit. I can call the insurance adjuster from there, meet him at the wrecking lot—if I can find a renta-car company that will pick me up.”
“Taking care of business, in other words.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He didn’t try to wheedle another night on her sofa. Paula had sort of hoped he would. Having him around was . . . She searched for the words.
A pleasure.
Just looking at him sprawled out, big and bold, was a huge pleasure.
“Might as well get an early start, then,” she said. Paula poured him a cup of coffee and set a quart of milk on the table. She went to look for her black shoes. She’d get coffee later and drink it in the patrol car.
“You bet.” Zach added a lot of milk to his cup and downed the coffee in a few gulps, watching her ru
n a brush through her hair and braid it quickly. Then he got up.
Bracing a hand against the wall, he inserted his bare foot gingerly into one of the heavy boots, then did the same with the other.
“How’s that feel?” she asked him, putting on her shoes.
“Okay. But now they’re too big.”
“I don’t have any socks that would fit you.”
“I don’t want to wear the casts,” he said. “I don’t think I need them if I tie the laces tighter. I’ll just shuffle.”
Paula stood up and got her uniform jacket out of the closet. Zach squatted to deal with the boots, grunting as he rose again. He bent down to retrieve the flexi-casts and grabbed the red fur jacket from the floor, slinging it over one arm.
“Don’t forget the belt,” she said briskly. The sight of him standing there was a little too much for her. Even pulled down, the black tank top left nothing about his brawny upper body to the imagination. His stance—legs wide apart for balance, costume pants slung dangerously low on his narrow hips—didn’t either.
Zach looked at the floor. “Oh yeah. Norville will definitely need that.”
He found it and picked it up. Paula walked ahead of him to the apartment door, opening it and waiting for him to leave ahead of her so she could lock it.
He paused just inside the threshold. “Thanks again. You know I’d do the same for you.”
“I hope you never have to. But thanks.”
He still had the sleepy look and warm smell of a man in the morning. His blue eyes crinkled with a hesitant smile. Maybe he was expecting her to just shove him out the door.
She actually wanted him to come back. But not so much that she was going to issue an invitation.
Paula stood back. “Time to roll.”
Zach pressed his lips to her cheek. He seemed to be himself again. In his half-dressed state, the brief kiss affected her more than it should have.
He went past her with the Santa jacket and belt slung over his bare arm. “Whatever you say, baby. Just ask.” He chucked her under the chin as he stepped out into the hall. “I’m from the North Pole. I’m here to help.”
Paula laughed as she pulled the door closed. Then she stood stock-still.