Loving Again: Book 2 in the Second Chance series (Crimson Romance)

by Bird, Peggy

  Using his hand with the IV in it, he clumsily pushed a curl back behind her ear. The familiar gesture made it impossible to contain her tears.

  “Please don’t cry. I’m fine, now that you’re here,” he said.

  “I’ll try.” She forced the corners of her mouth up. Clasping his hand to her chest, she asked, “How’re you feeling?”

  “The truth? Beat up.”

  “Maybe because you were.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But I’m doing okay. I’m tougher than a stupid bad guy with a gun.” He grinned and kissed her hand. When she pulled it back to her chest, he frowned. “Hey, your heart’s beating fast. Maybe you’d like to join me here with a few of these machines attached to you. Not exactly the honeymoon suite but … ”

  She didn’t laugh.

  “This isn’t like that night at the gallery this summer when you were excited to see me. Now you look more scared than happy. How come?”

  “I guess I am. More than a little scared, actually.” She dropped her eyes for a moment and her voice became softer. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.” A lump materialized in her throat. She gulped it down so she could talk. “This is my fault. All of it. I’m the reason you got shot and ended up here. I’m so, so sorry, Sam. I messed up so bad.”

  “You messed up? How’s this your fault?” he asked.

  “I thought if I gave him the money he wanted, he’d leave you alone. If I’d done better at it or if I’d trusted you and Danny with what I knew … ”

  “What? You gave who what?”

  “I let Matthews think I knew about the safe, about Tommy’s money. I didn’t think there was a safe but I had money so I … ”

  “What the hell did you do something like that for? Christ, Amanda, he could have hurt you. He could have killed you.” The warm affectionate expression she’d been greeted with was now the set-in-stone angry look she’d seen too often recently.

  “After last year, I couldn’t let you get hurt, couldn’t let you get involved. I just did what I thought would keep him away from you until Danny, Detective Hartmann … ”

  “I know who Danny is. What I don’t know is why the hell you did something this reckless.”

  The tears were streaking down her cheeks now and she thought she could hear the sound of his heart rate increasing on one of the machines. “I’m sorry. I was stupid. I didn’t tell you or Danny what I knew. All I could think of was protecting you. I … I love you. I couldn’t let you … ”

  “Wait, say that again.”

  “What?”

  “The part about loving me.”

  She tried smiling but her mouth wobbled. “I love you, Sam.”

  “That’s a hell of a way to get me to stop being pissed off at you.”

  “Did it work?” The smile came a little easier this time.

  “Come here and find out.” He reached for her and she slipped her arms around his neck and moved in for a kiss. He tried to circle her with his arms but the cast, the IV and the cords and cables got in the way and they gave up.

  When she sat up, he said, “Amanda, you shouldn’t have tried to deal with him on your own. And you better never do anything even remotely like that again. But you didn’t put me here. Matthews did. He and Vos and Tom Webster are responsible. Hell, add me to the list. I shouldn’t have let my pride make me angry; I should have seen how scared you were. I should have … well, I didn’t. But it’s over now. The Webster case is finally all over.” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them.

  She held his hand to her chest again. “On the way here this morning, I wondered. Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me, maybe you’d discovered something … ”

  His laugh interrupted. “I’ve discovered I don’t like being shot and I don’t like being in the hospital. Does that count?”

  “I’m serious, Sam.”

  “So am I, believe me.” He laced his finger through hers. “What do you think I might change my mind about, pretty lady?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’d want to make changes in your life.” She paused and tilted her head down to hide the expression on her face. “Maybe be with someone else. Someone who doesn’t make you angry by doing stupid things.”

  He turned her face up so she was looking at him. “I was angry because I was frustrated, worried about you being safe. I don’t want to be with someone else. Why would I?”

  She grabbed tissues from the box on his bedside stand and dabbed at her eyes. “We haven’t exactly been Romeo and Juliet lately.”

  “Christ, I hope not. Look how they ended up.”

  “I meant … ”

  “Forget Romeo and Juliet. How about us, the way things were before you tried to protect me. I don’t need you to protect me from a bad guy, but I do need you. I love you.”

  After another attempt at kissing resulted in the same tangle of cords and IV lines, they settled for talking. As they spoke, she touched the bruises on his face, the dressing on his incision, the cast on his arm as if her touch would hasten the healing.

  The ICU staff left them alone even though she was clearly exceeding the time limits for visitors. Eventually they were interrupted by the surgeons on rounds who released Sam to the surgical floor and from most of the machines that had been monitoring him. Amanda packed up the few pieces of clothing they hadn’t cut off him the day before and carried them downstairs to a room he had all to himself.

  After making sure Sam was comfortable in his new bed, Amanda said, “I think it’s time for me to go. I’ve already overstayed my time. But I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Don’t go. There’s nothing to do here except annoy the nurses if you’re not here,” he threatened.

  “When I come back I’ll bring you a couple books and my iPod with music you’ll like. You need to rest. You’re recuperating from life-threatening injuries.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s why they had all that gear attached to you? ” she said.

  “They’re overcautious. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t know about fine but you are incorrigible.” She bent down and kissed him. “Behave yourself. Sleep. Don’t torture the staff.”

  Amanda left the hospital feeling a great weight had been lifted from her. She was so overjoyed she realized when she put the key in the ignition that she couldn’t remember taking the elevator to the lobby, finding her SUV or getting into it. She sat for a few moments with her head on the steering wheel, giving thanks to whatever power watched over police officers.

  “Amanda? Are you okay?” Danny Hartmann said as she knocked gently on the driver’s side window.

  Amanda sat up slowly. “I’m fine. I’m tired. But everything’s okay.”

  “Sam’s doing better?”

  “He’s been moved out of ICU; he’s got most of the machines off; he’s complaining about being in the hospital. Yeah, I’d say he’s doing better.”

  “Ah, the real Sam has returned. Care to bet on how long it’ll take the nurses to figure out they liked him better unconscious?”

  “I don’t think you can bet on things that have already happened. We’re going to have to bribe them not to gag and restrain him before this is all over.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam amazed his doctors with his rapid recovery. He attributed it to his fitness and good health. They thought it might have something to do with the constant attention he got from the women in his life. His partner dropped in when she could. Amanda was there all day, every day, of his short stay. And his sister came over from Eastern Oregon to see for herself that he was okay, providing stories about her baby brother’s childhood escapades that embarrassed him and delighted Amanda.

  The other women who interacted with him on a regular basis, however, weren’t so impressed with Sam. Restless to be out from under
every restriction the nurses tried to impose, he was not an easy patient. As she’d predicted she would have to do, Amanda brought bribes to the staff at every visit — candy, fruit, small glass ornaments, large containers of gourmet coffee — anything to try and mitigate for Sam’s grumpy resistance to the rules they attempted to enforce. When Amanda reminded him he once said he liked rules, he replied he only liked them when he was doing the enforcing.

  The struggle between Sam and the medical staff came to a head the day the doctors told him he couldn’t be released from the hospital until he arranged assistance in his apartment for at least two to three weeks. No matter how much he argued, they wouldn’t budge. He was there until he made satisfactory plans for his home care. Or they’d do it for him.

  When Amanda arrived that afternoon, her favorite nurse explained what the doctors had told him and warned her that Sam wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she suggested Amanda might want to go home and come back after he’d cooled down.

  Amanda found him pacing the hall outside his room. “Hey, cowboy, rumor has it you’ve had a bad day.”

  “Goddamn doctors. Why the hell do they think they know better than I do what I can or can’t do? I don’t need Nurse Ratched or some strange man — they said they would arrange a male nurse if I wanted one. Christ, that’s all I need.”

  “If you’ll stop ranting and stand still, I’ll kiss you hello.”

  “Sorry, baby.” He held her and she kissed him. “I can’t stand being here for another couple days until they make arrangements.”

  “Not happy appears to be an understatement. But I’ve got an idea that might make you feel better. Let’s go back in your room and talk.”

  They walked toward his room, his casted arm around her shoulders. “What, you have the name of someone who can come in and help me?”

  “Not exactly.” She led him to the two chairs next to the window. “Suppose you had a place to go where there’d be help available twenty-four seven? Would that satisfy the doctors?”

  “Some kind of nursing home? They said that, too. Absolutely not.”

  “No, I’m thinking my house.” Ignoring the startled look on his face, she continued. “If you recuperated with me, I’d be able to help you. I could change your dressing and take you to your appointments. I can cook, help you with meals.”

  The startled look was slowly being replaced with the wisp of a smile playing around his lips. “How about showering? Would you help me shower?”

  “If you need help, of course.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’d need help.” The smile had taken control of his mouth and was moving up through his dimple to the crinkles around his eyes. “And where would I sleep?”

  “Wherever you’d like. I have four bedrooms. Take your pick.”

  “Suppose I pick yours? Would you be there, too?”

  “That could be arranged, assuming it doesn’t interfere with your rest.”

  “You sleeping beside me would never interfere with me. Of course, I can’t promise I won’t try to interfere with you.” A full-fledged grin appeared on his face. “This shitty day has suddenly gotten a helluva lot better.”

  “I’m glad you like my idea.”

  The grin faded as fast as it had appeared. He cocked his head, frowning. “Seriously, are you sure? You’re not doing this because you think you owe me something or you’re feeling guilty or responsible for what happened or bullshit like that, are you?” he asked. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

  “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I thought it would solve your problem, and make you happy. Because … ” she paused.

  “Because?” he prompted.

  “Because this will probably be the only chance I’ll ever have to take care of you. Or, maybe more accurately, the only time you’ll ever let me take care of you. So, let me.”

  The smile was back although a bit wary. “Okay, your house it is. But, just so you know, once I move in, you may have a helluva time getting me out.”

  “We’ll worry about that later, if we have to.” She attempted to stand up but he held on to her. “If you’ll let me go, I’ll have the nurses page your doctor and see if this works for him. If he’ll agree to let you go tomorrow, I’ll take your keys and move things from your apartment to my house so it’s all ready for you.”

  “I’ll move stuff to your house when I get out of here.”

  “No, you won’t. There is a condition attached to this offer — you have to do exactly what the doctors tell you to do. If you don’t, I swear I’ll hire an eighty-year-old nurse in a bikini to shower you and take a photo of it for Danny to show around the precinct.”

  “Christ, she’d love that. Okay, I’ll find out what the rules are.”

  “I’ll find out what the rules are.”

  “You don’t trust me?” His grin was sly now.

  “I trust you about everything. Anything. Anything, that is, except an accurate recital of the restrictions the doctors will put on you. That I don’t trust you about.”

  “You’re probably right.” He let go of her hand. “Okay, call the doc and see what he says. If he says no, tell him I can always sign myself out. See what he comes back with after that.”

  “This isn’t a hostage negotiation, Sam.”

  “Sure as hell feels like one to me.”

  The surgeon agreed to her plan. After asking if she knew what she was getting into, he gave her a five-minute crash course in how to take care of a curmudgeonly patient with a cast on his arm and a fresh surgical incision, and said he’d leave discharge prescriptions at the nurses’ station in the morning when he made rounds.

  He answered all her questions about Sam’s restrictions, which included no weight on his arms, no lifting anything heavy with his uncasted arm because of the incision, no driving, horseback riding, running or weight lifting. Wondering how willing and cooperative Sam would be when she got him home, Amanda went back down the hall to break the good news.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Getting his stuff from his apartment was easy. Getting him out of the hospital the next day was more complicated. Amanda brought his favorite cowboy boots and a pair of jeans, along with a blue, button-down shirt, thinking only of what he’d be most comfortable in, not of the logistics of getting him into the clothes with a cast and an impaired shoulder.

  When she asked if he wanted help he turned her down. After he struggled a bit, he admitted she was going to have to assist. As she helped him with his shirt, he grumbled that he like it better when she undressed him. Amanda could barely keep a straight face.

  Next came the inevitable fight over riding to the car in a wheelchair. “Hospital policy,” the nurse said. “Fuck hospital policy,” Sam responded. But she made it clear he couldn’t get signed out until he sat in it. Amanda left in the middle of the standoff, sure the nurse would win, and went to get her SUV.

  Sam rode downstairs in the wheelchair but claimed a small moral victory by jumping out of it just before they got to the front door. Before the nurse turned to go back with the empty chair Amanda thought she saw an expression of relief that would seem to indicate she was happy Sam was now someone else’s problem.

  Their arrival at Amanda’s place was easier. He hopped out of the Highlander as soon as she turned off the ignition and almost ran to the door. Chihuly greeted them with enthusiasm. Sam knelt and there was face licking (by Chihuly) and ear scratching (by Sam) while Amanda emptied the car of the books, flowers, and personal items from the hospital.

  “Want to go upstairs and see where I put your things?” she asked when she’d brought in the last load.

  “Might as well, sure.”

  She showed him where she’d put his clothes and began to explain where things were in the bathroom. Then she caught his reflection in the mirror. He was running his hand over his
face, not seeming to register what she was saying. “You can change anything around that you want, Sam. I … ”

  “No, it’s fine. Whatever you did is fine.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, still looking at him in the mirror.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  She turned around. “If you’re having second thoughts about the arrangement, if you’d rather be at your apartment, I understand. We can unravel all this, make other arrangements. But if we’re going to change things, we should do it before it gets more complicated.”

  He took the few steps he needed to get close enough to put his arms around her. “I’m not having second thoughts. I want to be here. It’s just … ”

  “It’s just … what?” She touched his face and ran her thumb across the bruise on his cheek. “Tell me, please.”

  “I wanted to get out of the damn hospital so bad I didn’t think about what it would be like when I was released. Maybe expecting things to go back to the way they were before is too much to ask right now.”

  “What things?”

  “Like … ” He paused and scanned her face. “Oh, hell, it’s me. I feel … detached, maybe. Nothing seems normal.” He blew out a breath. “I just need a couple good nights’ sleep. I didn’t get much in the hospital.”

  “Do you want to reconsider where you’re sleeping? Maybe one of the guest rooms would be better after all.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face again.

  “Was it noisy staff or bad dreams in the hospital?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

  “Both.”

  She took his hand and played with his fingers, then traced the veins on the back of his hand, not looking at him. “Have I ever told you why I got Chihuly?”

  “Wasn’t it for security?”

  “Not really. I got him because I was having such a hard time in Seattle that I wondered if I’d made a mistake accepting the residency at Pilchuck. I’d begun to have horrible dreams, nightmares really, after Tommy died and they didn’t stop after I moved. Cynthia suggested I get a pet and told me about this breeder who had a new litter of curly coated retrievers.”