Before she said or did anything else that might embarrass her, she took the keys, climbed into the car, and followed him out of the parking lot.
All the way through town, he seemed to have trouble driving the truck. She almost rear ended him when they stopped at McTiernan's only red light, because Dudley choked and sputtered upon acceleration. Out on the highway, north of town, the old girl garnered new momentum and Graeme stretched the distance between the two vehicles.
Suddenly, without warning, brake lights flashed. The truck swerved from side to side, then jerked sharply to the right, straight into the bar ditch and out again in a flying mid-air flip. After what seemed like minutes but could only have been seconds, Dudley came to rest right side up in the middle of a field.
Maggie pulled over, unfastened her seatbelt and ran toward the pickup. As she approached, something hissed and sizzled at the front from somewhere under the hood. There was no moon and the only light was the reflection from the truck's headlights. Out of the darkness pounding feet on hard sun-baked earth drew her attention. Ben Hammond stopped short beside her.
His flashlight illuminated the interior bringing to light what she feared. Graeme slumped over to the middle, the lap belt still holding him in the seat. The top half of the steering wheel had broken off and lay on the dash. Blood spattered the cracked windshield. Ben pulled on the driver side door, but his strength alone couldn't budge it.
"Be right back," he told her as he hurried to his squad car. When he returned, he used a pry bar to open the door so she could get inside to check on Graeme. "I radioed for help. How is he, Maggie?"
She levered herself up and over him to check for his pulse. "His breathing's shallow and labored but his pulse is strong." Performing a cursory look, she said, "The blood on his face and chest appear be from his nose. I can't tell if it's broken."
Ben rejoined her at the driver's side. "Yeah, the way he hit the steering wheel and possibly the dashboard, could mean internal injuries. Ambulance will be here soon so we can get him out of there."
She'd seen Ben under the hood and asked, "What were you looking at?"
"Just checking things out." He turned toward the sound of sirens. "Good, they're here."
The emergency vehicle pulled to a stop beside them. The paramedics fitted Graeme with a neck collar and laid him on a back board for transport to the hospital. As Maggie turned to follow them, she heard a loud pop from somewhere under the truck. Ben dragged her to relative safety just as Dudley burst into flames.
* * *
Graeme rolled his lips inward from the pain in his upper body as he reached for the bar over the bed. He curbed the urge to let loose with a string of cuss words as he leveraged himself into a sitting position. Sweat covered his body and dizziness overtook him in his attempt.
Maggie immediately appeared at his side. "Here, let me help you."
"Shit," he hissed as he rested against the pillows she placed behind his shoulders. Nothing would be comfortable right now, but they were a definite plus over the board he'd come in on.
"I'd asked you how you feel, but I can see it on your face." She swept her gaze over the length of him, placed her fingers at his wrist for his pulse, and checked his I.V. Finally, her eyes brimming with tears, she said, "I'm so sorry."
He stilled her hand, pulling it close to his chest. "It was no one's fault, honey. I'm just glad you weren't driving. You could've been killed."
"If circumstances were different, you might be on a slab instead of a gurney." Ben Hammond walked into the room, closing the door behind him. "I had the truck towed to Harlan's, Maggie. I hope that's okay."
"Of course it is."
"What the hell happened, Graeme?"
"Don't know, but it felt like something broke. I couldn't steer her."
"You were behind him, Maggie, did you see anything?"
"All the way through town, I could tell she'd been running really rough and slow, but after we passed the city limits sign, he picked up speed. Without warning the truck ran off the road."
"You didn't run over anything?"
"Nope."
The door swung open again reminding Graeme of the non-existent quiet and privacy at hospitals. A man in green scrubs walked in carrying an iPad. He went to Maggie first and hugged her.
"I heard your news when I came on shift tonight. It's about time some of those hard-asses came to their senses. I'm glad to have you back."
She pulled her hand from Graeme's grasp to return the hug. "Thanks, Hake, I've missed you, too."
The man released her, shook hands with Ben, then held out his hand to Graeme. "Mr. McAlister, we've had a shift change since you came in. I'm Hake Jackson, the ER doc now on duty. How're you feeling? Any better?"
"Somewhat."
"Good," he answered, scanning information on his computer device. "I put some happy juice in your I.V. so your pain should steadily decrease. Let me know if your discomfort level increases, I'll adjust the meds."
"How soon can I go home?"
"I want to keep you overnight. Your chest took quite a hit from the close encounter you had with that steering wheel."
"I'm fine, I . . ."
Ben handed Graeme his digital camera, a selected picture on the view screen. He took in the broken wheel, the crumpled metal dashboard, the cracked windshield and returned it. He probably should be in worse shape. The fact remained that he'd had his fill of hospitals, being poked, prodded and observed.
Graeme gave Dr. Jackson a pointed look. "I'm not staying."
Maggie looked ready to offer a protest but apparently changed her mind.
"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one," Jackson offered with a chuckle, "I wouldn't have to sit here and listen to you macho types spew nonsense." He put up his hand to stay the coming rebuttal. "Give me time to review the x-rays before I make the final decision. If nothing glares out at me, I'll consider it."
* * *
Daylight had broken over the horizon, lighting up the bedroom when Maggie went in to turn back the comforter and top sheet on her bed. She'd protested Hake's decision to let Graeme come here for a day or two to recuperate. Was she the only one to see the flaw in that reasoning?
Of course she had the training and experience to take care of him, but she wasn't convinced she had the stamina. She found herself less and less able or willing to ignore her feelings for him. Before he left she'd known that he liked her. And she'd fancied herself falling in love. That last night in the barn after the dance, he'd kissed her. The next day she'd been devastated when he left without explanation to join the Army. All the years that followed she'd believed he abandoned his family, friends and her.
Wyatt stepped in and, like all the men in the Benning family, charm oozed from his pores. He easily turned her eighteen year old head with a diamond and pretty promises. By the time Graeme returned home, she and Wyatt were married. Months passed before she realized how he felt about her. But he never brought up the past and she and Wyatt settled into their life together. Now, since Graeme had come home, her emotions were all a jumble. She had no idea how she really felt.
Voices from the front of the house pulled her away from her thoughts.
Ben called out, "Hey, Maggie? We're in."
"Come on back." She waited and when no one came, she made her way to the living room. Graeme lay sprawled on the couch while Ben packed throw pillows behind him.
"Sorry, but this is as far as I'm going." He sank into the cushions, closed his eyes and sighed. A faint snore resonated and Maggie realized this is where he'd be the rest of the night.
Ben straightened, rolled his shoulders and grinned. "That's a pretty big ol' boy layin' there. You need me to do anything else for you before I leave?"
"Thanks, but he'll probably be there for several hours. I think we'll be all right."
"Don't hesitate to call if you change your mind." He turned toward the door, but stopped and pivoted around. He pointed toward the fireplace. "By the way, I picked up a
box that got tossed out of the truck bed in the accident. Some of the contents were strewn about the field but I think I got them all."
What was with that stupid box? Everywhere she turned it was there, no matter whether she put it away or took it from the house. Wearily, she rubbed her forehead and promised herself tomorrow, it would disappear for good. To Ben, she smiled. "I appreciate all you've done for us, Ben. I hope you get some sleep today."
"I'll do my best," he said. With a wave, he left the porch and got in his car.
Maggie grabbed a light blanket from the linen closet and spread it over Graeme. When she pulled the edge up over his chest, he stirred and wrapped his fingers firmly around her hand. Startled, she almost fell across him.
"Thanks, darlin'," He mumbled, turning toward the back of the couch taking her hand with him.
She tried to ignore the goose bumps that pebbled her skin at his touch and the way he seemed to cling to her. Both were futile. Too tired to struggle against his strength, she accepted her temporary fate and sat on the floor beside him. Later she would sort through the turmoil in her emotions and the heat she was experiencing that had nothing to do with the Texas summer.
Chapter 9
Graeme awoke to the chimes of the mantle clock and a body that rebelled with every move. Dear God, even his eyelids hurt as he peered through slits to check his surroundings. He recognized enough to know he was in Maggie's living room. On her couch? Why? Was he in "hangover hell"?
He felt like he'd been body slammed. Slowly bits and pieces came back to him. He remembered meeting Maggie at the diner, eating, getting that truck running again and, oh yeah, going airborne in an ancient tin can not meant for air travel.
Maggie slept beside him propped against the couch. She'd pulled a corner of the blanket across her shoulders, leaving her hair fanned out toward his hand. He touched the soft strands, combing his fingers through them repeatedly. Reaching a little further, he grazed her neck and the curve of her ear. She opened her eyes and smiled drowsily.
"Mmmm, that feels good."
He continued the caress, glad when she didn't snap at him or pull away. He took it as a good sign they were on the path to a better relationship.
She angled a little closer to him. "You know, you get so caught up in the loss and the day to day demands that you forget about the little things like a smile or a touch . . . that's real nice."
Her voice, husky with the remnants of sleep, shot an electrical jolt through his finger tips straight to his groin. Within seconds the pain in his body squelched any amorous thoughts he might've entertained, slamming him back to reality.
"It'd been a long time since he and I'd been close."
He knew she meant Wyatt and again Elliott's mention of divorce crossed his mind. He wanted to ask her about her relationship with her husband, ask her what had gone wrong between them, mostly he wanted to hold her, make all her bad experiences disappear. Moving his hand down to the curve of her neck and shoulder, he told her, "I'm sorry, Maggie, for what you've been through. I wish I could've saved you from all the heartache."
"Me, too." He thought she might be ready to delve deeper but she sat up and faced him. "Hey, I'm starving, how about some breakfast?"
"Yeah, I could eat."
"Good." She stood, offered him her hand and a half grin-half grimace. "I know you haven't been up yet so this first time's going to hurt like a bitch."
After the trip to the bathroom, he took the pain pill with the water Maggie had placed on the end table. When she called him to the dining room to eat, he moved easier due to the medication. She'd scrambled eggs, fried sausage and toasted muffins. And he ate like he hadn't eaten in days.
"This is good."
"Thanks, but you're just hungry. It's been a while since we ate last."
"What time is it anyway?"
She pointed to the microwave clock. "It's after two in the afternoon."
He took the last bite using the muffin to sop up the egg, chased it with coffee then stacked plates and silverware together. Covering a yawn with his napkin, he sat back from the table. "I guess I should be going. I've imposed on your good nature long enough."
"No, I can't let you go yet, you look a little worse for wear and besides, you're on pain meds. Can you say, totally irresponsible behavior?"
"Nope."
She hid a grin at his semi-slurred speech. "Umm-hmm, that's what I thought."
* * *
Maggie parked the Suburban in her driveway, got out and grabbed the couple of sacks of groceries she'd bought and a change of clothes she'd picked up for Graeme at the ranch. She found him on the couch surrounded by the contents of that damnable box. Maybe she'd read too many paranormal books recently, but she could almost believe someone or something wanted them to see what was inside.
He looked up when she came in. "Hey, how'd it go?"
"Mission accomplished. There's now more variety and a couple of guilty pleasures to choose from." She put the bags down on the dining table and joined him on the couch. "I think those are mostly broken games and junk. You really don't have to mess with them. I've already replaced some of his favorites."
"Well, I didn't want to go back to sleep, so it gave me something to do while you were gone. I think I can solder the wires on these two." He motioned to a couple he'd set on the end table then held up another from his lap. "This one has something jammed into the SD card slot. Do you have a pair of tweezers?"
"Yes, I'll get them for you."
"Thanks."
Maggie gave him the tweezers, put the groceries away and sat beside him again. She watched him work diligently tugging at whatever was in the slot. There was no way she would have the patience to stay with that project. She could deal with the trauma of an accident or dig for a splinter in a squirmy five year old's finger or console a distraught parent, but this she would ditch in two seconds. Already had. Three or four times in fact. She'd put the box in the bed of the truck earlier to drop it off at Harlan Garrity's place. He liked to tinker with junk in his spare time. Sitting with Bridey, though, she'd run out of time to stop.
"Here we go."
"What is that?"
"You tell me," he said adjusting his grip for a better hold. "Some pieces of paper and . . . what the hell?"
"Looks like a game card, so?"
"It's in there on top of what looks like another card."
He worked a few more minutes and finally pulled the piece out holding it up for her to see. "Unbelievable."
"It's amazing what kids will do. Andy's usually --"
"Do you have a computer?" He interrupted.
"Wyatt's old one is in the back room but it hasn't been turned on since – it's been almost a year."
She led him back to the mess that would eventually be her office where he sat down, plugged the laptop into an outlet and turned it on.
"This is password protected do you know what it is?"
"No, Wyatt kept it from me." She stared at the screen then said, "Trevor probably does."
"What makes you think that?"
"After the funeral, he came by and asked to borrow it. He said there was information he needed concerning a joint project he and Wyatt were working on. He brought it back in a few days." Thinking to help, Maggie left the room and grabbed her phone from the front of the house. She was dialing as she entered the office.
"Who're you calling?" Graeme asked.
"Trevor. He'll give me the password if he remembers it."
"Hang up," he said quickly. "I don't need it tonight."
Maggie disconnected the call and held the back of the chair as he stood. She followed him to the bathroom door.
He pointed to the room, shrugged and grinned. "Since I'm up."
"Are you hungry or thirsty?"
"No, I'm feeling pretty tired. Think I'm ready to lie down."
She greeted him at the door of the bedroom when he came toward her.
"I'm not taking your bed, Maggie."
"I'm the nurse
-slash-caregiver and you'll do as I say." She took him by the arm and maneuvered him to the far side of the room.
He chuckled. "I love it when a woman gets forceful."
She handed him a tee shirt and lounge pants from the bag Bridey had packed. "Put these on so you'll rest better."
"Thanks."
She left the room to get his pain meds and a glass of water. When she returned he'd changed his clothes and stood beside the bed taking shallow breaths. She held out her hands. "It's time for this and you look like you need it."
"You'll get no argument from me." He handed the glass back to her and with no small amount of effort, stretched out on the king size bed. When he patted the mattress beside him, her face flushed hot.
The feel of his hand on her neck and shoulder from earlier returned filling her with a heat that she needed to ignore. "N-no, not a good idea."
"I promise you your virtue is safe . . ." he said wincing as he reached his arm over his head, obviously still in pain, but finishing with, "for tonight."
The thought of sleeping in her own bed after sitting up for hours on the floor tempted her beyond her reservations. She entertained the idea for a split second before denouncing it. It simply wasn't a good idea.
"I'm going to pick up the other room. You go on to sleep and I'll think about it." What? Why did she say that?
"Would you mind massaging my shoulders for a minute? Help me relax?"
"Okay, for a minute."
By the time she turned off the light, he already faced the edge of the bed on his side, making it necessary for her to sit in the middle. She rubbed the taut muscles of his shoulders admiring their breadth and strength, as the heat traveled from her fingers, up through her arms and beyond. His warmth and the circular motion of her hands mesmerized her. Sleep teased her eyelids and she knew if she didn't stop soon, she would lose her resolve.
Maybe if she closed her eyes for just a second . . .
* * *
Graeme climbed back into bed as carefully as he could, trying his best not to disturb her. He'd answered nature's call, checked the time and his phone for messages or missed calls. Finding none, he did find he was both surprised and pleased to see her asleep next to him. That was the last thing he expected.
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 37