by Cate Beauman
She walked to where he stood.
“How do you want to do this?”
“Maybe you could help me lift it over my good arm and we’ll slide it off from there. It’s the stretching motion that hurts so much.”
“All right. Let’s do it.” He moved closer, pulling the shirt up as she carefully lifted her arm, sucking in a breath with the movement.
“Stop.” He couldn’t stand seeing her in this much pain.
She froze. “What?”
“Are you attached to this top?”
“No. I was going to throw it away. It was either wear this or the gown.”
“Hold on.” He went to the kitchen and grabbed the scissors from the drawers Sophie had organized and came back. “I’ll cut it off.”
“Okay.”
He started cutting up from the bottom hem, exposing her taut stomach, realizing she was braless as he went.
“Um, I’m not wearing a bra,” she said, looking up from under her lashes the way he knew she did when she was feeling shy.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you naked a few times before.”
She smiled. “I know.”
He smiled back. “It’s no big deal, Soph.”
“I didn’t say it was. I just didn’t want to surprise you or make you feel uncomfortable.”
“I think I’ve got this. Ready?”
“Sure.”
He pulled off her top one arm at a time, glancing at firm breasts and pink nipples before she covered herself with her casted arm. “How about a bra or something instead of the shirt?”
“If you packed one.”
“You left this here.” He walked to the dresser, holding up a black, front-close exercise bra.
“I didn’t realize I had.”
“You left several things here.” And he’d left them where he found them, not ready to put them in a box and hand them off.
She met his gaze and looked down. “Oh.”
Tension started creeping back into the room. “So, do you want the bra?”
“Yes, I guess that would work.”
He stood before her again and slid it on one arm at a time, gently bringing the ends around her ribcage, the sides of his hands brushing the soft skin of her breasts as he fastened the clasp. “How’s that?”
“Fine. Thank you.”
“Go ahead and lose the pants, and we’ll get you settled in.”
“I tried.” She swallowed. “The string’s knotted. I can’t bend my head far enough to see what I’m doing.”
He fiddled with the knot, finally loosening it. “There.” He stared into her eyes as he sent the pants down to pool at her feet.
“I, uh, they—they cut off my panties. They cut everything.”
“Apparently.” He turned, reaching into her bag, fishing out a pair of the silk scraps he used to love taking off of her, wanting her. In the two-and-a-half weeks they’d been apart he hadn’t forgotten how easily he could make that beautiful body of hers respond with a touch of his tongue, brush of his lips, or slide of his fingers. The idea of never doing so again was almost more than he could stand. “Okay.” He turned back. “Go ahead and step out.”
She lifted her feet one at a time, and he gathered the clothes for the trash, then held out the pale pink panties. “Foot in.”
She balanced herself with her hands on his shoulders and put her feet through the openings one at a time.
He slid the sexy underwear up her firm calves and thighs, trailing his thumbs over her smooth skin, settling the bands on her hips as he looked up into her gaze, thrilled as hell when he noticed her flushed cheeks and eyes hot with desire. “Do you want your shorts?”
“Yes please,” she said, clearing her throat.
He took the pink-striped shorts from the bed and repeated the process, making certain to take his time, biting his cheek to prevent his grin of satisfaction when her breathing grew unsteady and she shivered. “Looks like you’re all set.”
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
Sophie certainly wasn’t as indifferent as he’d feared. “Ready for bed?”
“Mmm. I’m tired.”
He pulled back the covers. “Do you need help?”
“Maybe a little. If I can hold onto your arm while I lay myself back.”
“Yeah, sure.” Finally, she was letting him give her a hand. He helped her ease herself down to the pillow and leaned in closer than was necessary as he gently slid her hair out from beneath her neck the way he’d seen her do several times. “How’s that?”
“Great.” She sighed, smiling, closing her eyes with a small moan. “I miss this bed so much.” Her eyes flew open as her smile vanished.
She missed their bed—now he just needed her to miss him too. “How about the compress?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Only if I have to.”
“You definitely do.” He pulled the covers up to her hips and grabbed a folded towel from the laundry basket that had been sitting in the corner since she left, wrapping it around the frozen pack. “I guess my black eye was good for something, or we wouldn’t have this.” He held her gaze, knowing she thought of the kiss in the kitchen as he did.
“Yes, I guess so.”
He sat on the edge of the mattress, frowning as he stared at the dark-purple bloom of bruises. “Damn, Soph.” He traced his fingers over her warm, battered skin.
“I couldn’t stop. The light turned yellow, and I was in the intersection.”
He continued sliding his fingers over her ribs, moving to her stomach, desperate to touch, trying to make up for the weeks he hadn’t been able to. “You remember.”
“Parts, I guess. It happened so fast. I dreamt about it last night when I was actually able to sleep—the blinding lights coming at me, and I think I screamed. Then when you and I were on our way here just now, we went through the intersection where the accident happened and I remembered that the light had been yellow.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t stop?”
“I pressed on the brake, but it didn’t work.”
His fingers paused on her skin. “They didn’t work?”
“No, I pushed them all the way to the floor. I tried my emergency brake, but I didn’t slow down.”
“Did the engine accelerate?”
She frowned, clearly trying to put herself back in the moment. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I had Ethan get me a copy of the police report. I was surprised to read that you were only a couple of miles from here. I thought you said you were buying furniture.”
She shrugged and sucked in a breath.
He stroked again, automatically trying to soothe her.
“Murphy and I were on our way to do some shopping, but we ended up here at the house.”
He tried to focus on the fact that something was off about her story, but he couldn’t ignore the small stirring of pleasure that she’d come. “Why?”
“I—I don’t know. I love it here. I love this house. I guess I needed to say goodbye.”
The glimmer of pleasure vanished. “You don’t have to say goodbye. You can come up here whenever you want.”
“No.” She shook her head carefully. “No, I can’t. I can’t move forward if I keep going back.”
He looked away as her words stung. She was talking about moving on when he wasn’t sure he ever could. “Yeah, I guess.” He stood.
She grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry if that makes you upset.”
He shrugged. “I’m not upset.”
“Stone, I know you.”
He wasn’t about to admit that no one had ever crushed him the way she had when she left. “I just don’t understand. We had a few disagreements. I contacted Jeremiah when I should have talked to you about it first. The next thing I know you’re leaving and some cop’s handing me papers for a divorce.”
“It’s the right thing.”
“So you’ve said.” He tried to pull away.
She gripped him tighter. “I just—”
“You’d rather
suffer on your own in an apartment furnished with a couch than let me help you,” he spewed, no longer able to hold back the anger.
Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. This is what you want. You’re happy.” He stared at her, wanting her to tell him she’d made a mistake and she was as miserable as he was.
“I don’t know what else to do. I think this is for the best.”
He clenched his jaw. “Yeah, you’ve said that too.”
“I gave you back your life.”
He pulled away, unable to take any more. “This is exactly the part I don’t understand. You got mad at me for making decisions without talking to you first. When did you talk to me about this, Sophie? I didn’t get a say one way or the other. You just walked away.” Turning, he left as a tear trailed down her cheek. He didn’t have time for this crap. He didn’t want to care about her sad eyes when this was her damn fault. All he wanted to do was pick up a hammer and take out his frustrations on the guest room, but instead he grabbed his phone and dialed Ethan as he walked down the hall and sat on the couch.
“Cooke.”
“Hey, it’s Stone.”
“How’s Sophie?”
“Sore, but she’ll make it.”
“Good.”
“Thanks for switching me up. I owe Jerrod and Hunter for splitting the concert tour.”
“Family first.”
He grunted. He and Sophie were only family by a technicality at this point. “I’m hoping you can use your connections to look into something for me.”
“What’s up?”
“Sophie remembered bits and pieces of her accident last night and a little more today. She said she couldn’t stop. She pressed the brake to the floor and even tried the emergency brake, but nothing happened.”
“Huh,” Ethan said.
“Exactly. I want someone to check the brake lines. I also want to know where Eric Winthrop is.”
“You think it was him?”
“Absolutely. I took care of that car. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with those brakes. They were brand new. I changed them myself.”
“Give me a couple hours to see what I can find out, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks.” He hung up, walking back to the bedroom when he should have gone to the trailer or basketball court or anywhere else but there. He glanced in at Sophie breathing deeply as she slept on her side of the bed. “Damn you, Soph,” he murmured, clenching his jaw as he moved to stand next to her, staring at her gorgeous face despite the cuts and bruises, wishing he could turn his back as easily as she had. But he couldn’t. He loved the hell out of her.
She’d come last night to say goodbye, but she was here now. He could give up and let her move on with her life, or he could fight for the woman lying in his bed. Sophie seemed more comfortable with the idea of being friends. If he needed to play the friend card for a while to win back what he wanted most, he would do it.
Chapter Thirty-three
Sophie opened her eyes in the dim light, surprised by how well rested she felt. She gave her shoulders a cautious wiggle, finding herself slightly less achy than she had been before she fell asleep. Frowning, she sniffed at the air, breathing in something spicy and delicious. Fried chicken maybe? Did Stone cook? She sat up slowly, taking several deep, agonizing breaths as she’d been directed to do in the hospital, and inched her way off the mattress, looking out the window at the sun sinking in the evening sky. How long had she been asleep? She glanced at the clock. “Seven thirty?” She’d slept for hours. Shadows replace bright sunlight, and the house was quiet. “Stone?”
He didn’t answer.
She moved down the hall, treasuring the familiar surroundings she’d missed—the pretty living room. Even with dead plants and dust everywhere, it still felt like home.
She moved into the kitchen, stopping abruptly, taking in the transformation. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, smiling sadly. The tile flooring, high-end white cabinetry, glossy granite counters, and intricate backsplash behind the range top was perfect. She walked to the shiny double ovens, brushing her fingers over the stainless steel handles. It was the dream kitchen she and Stone had designed together, and it wasn’t hers to use.
Murphy yipped somewhere down the hall. “Murph?” She turned, making her way back toward the bedrooms, giving a quiet tap on the closed guestroom door. “Murph? Stone?” She twisted the knob and stepped in, staring at Stone rolling a warm, sand-colored paint over the last exposed area of wall. “This looks great.”
Stone whirled with the roller in hand, shirtless with his hair tucked behind a kerchief. “Jesus.”
“Sorry.” She moved further in, stepping on the cardboard protecting the new hardwood floors. “This is really nice, Stone.”
He pulled the ear buds from his ears. “Thanks.” He finished the spot, his muscles flexing with his movements, and set the roller in the bucket. “How are the ribs?”
She gently touched the bruising. “Not too bad.” They were still awful, but complaining wouldn’t fix it. “I feel like I have a little more energy.”
“Good.”
She wandered to the newly installed closet doors, glancing out the window toward the basketball court. “You’ve been busy. Everything’s just about finished.”
“Yeah. I wanted to get the last of it fixed up.”
“The kitchen’s amazing.” She smiled. “It’s everything I thought it would be.”
“It’ll be a good selling point. I’m putting the place on the market.”
“What?” She stepped closer to him, her brows furrowed. “No. Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll start flipping houses—live in them while I fix them up in my spare time, sell them, and move on to the next place.”
That sounded awful. This was Stone’s home. He belonged here. This secluded spot was perfect for him. “You’ve worked so hard. I hope you’ll change your mind.”
He rubbed at the paint drop on his finger. “Probably not.”
“Oh.” Why did the idea of Stone not living on the cliffs make her want to cry?
“We should get you another pill, and I’ll dish up some of the grub Sarah’s mother dropped off.”
“Aw, Janice cooked?”
“No, she said the lady at the gourmet store across from her shop made it, so it’s guaranteed to be delicious.”
She smiled. “That was very sweet for her to think of us.”
“She dropped off a Caesar salad for tomorrow night from Sarah.”
“I’ll have to call them both and thank them.”
“Your friends have spared us pizza deliveries and peanut butter and jelly for the next couple of nights.”
“I’ll go pull the stuff out of the fridge and get us drinks.”
“Uh no.” He moved to stand in her way. “You can go lay back down.”
“I don’t want to lay down.” She hurt all over, but she would go stir crazy if she lay around endlessly. “Pulling a couple of containers out of the refrigerator isn’t a big deal.”
He blew out a deep breath, holding her gaze. “You know, Soph, for as sweet as you are you sure as hell have a stubborn streak.”
She frowned. “I’m not stubborn. I can help out around here. I can’t just stare at the ceiling forever.”
“So sit on the couch and stare at the TV for a while. I’ll bring you some dinner and a pill.”
He was being so kind, and she’d upset him earlier. “What if we eat at the table?” She’d missed their cozy evening meals. “Then I can admire all of the work you’ve done in the kitchen. The glass-fronted cabinets are so pretty.”
“Why don’t we save that for another night and eat on the couch so you can rest?”
Lying down would be better, whether she liked the idea or not. “Okay,” she conceded. “Dinner in the living room it is.”
His cell phone jingled with a text. He pulled the phone from his pocket, g
lanced at the readout, and cleared his screen.
A loud boom echoed down the road, and color filled the sky in the distance as the sun sank deeper. Today was the Fourth of July. What if Stone had plans he’d canceled because of her? “You know, now that I think of it, I’ll probably have a quick bite to eat and head back to bed if you want to go out and enjoy the evening.”
He shook his head. “I’m staying right here.”
“It’s a holiday, Stone. Ethan and Sarah are having a get-together. I’m sure Amber and Shane will be there. I know Abby and Jerrod were planning to go.”
His gaze sharpened as he looked at her. “I’m not interested in seeing Amber tonight.”
She still remembered how carefree his smile had been when he and Amber smiled at each other at Smitty’s. “I’m really fine. I don’t want to keep you from your life.” She stepped around him on her way to the door. “In fact, I’m pretty tired again already.”
He snagged her uninjured arm, stopping her. “You look wide awake to me.”
“Nope.” She looked away, aware that she wasn’t a particularly good liar.
“I don’t want to see Amber, Soph.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I want to stay right here with you.”
She stared at the floor, trying to ignore the way his touches sent her heart rate soaring, as they’d done when he helped her dress earlier.
“Let me put some food on plates for us while you relax and watch TV. Let someone take care of you for a change.” He slid his palm down her arm.
She stepped back, needing her space. Being here was hard enough. Breathing him in and sleeping in their bed was almost more than she could handle. If he kept stroking her and staring into her eyes… “I’ve never done anything but let people take care of me.”
He frowned. “That’s bullshit.”
“No. My mother took care of me, then Eric in his sick way, and you.”
“Didn’t you take care of your mother? And I’m pretty sure you kept this house running when we both lived here. If anyone took care of anyone, you took care of me.” He took her hand, playing with her fingers. “I want to return the favor. Let me take care of you, Soph.”
She had little resistance to Stone’s sweet side. She pulled her hand from his, stopping his tender movements. “All right, but just for tonight. If you change your mind about going out—”