“Is he all right?” Skylar couldn’t help but ask.
Preston smirked. “Gave him something for the pain while he was staring at you.”
She twisted her lips as Mason’s hand crept up the side of her shirt. “Let me guess. Drugs make him a lover and not a fighter.” His large hand cupped her right breast.
“Oorah, boys,” Mason crowed.
Skylar blushed.
Preston huffed. “Actually, it’s the only one that will put him to sleep without complications.” He pulled Mason’s hand away. “Keep all body parts belonging to you with you,” he ordered.
Mason hugged her, his arms like bands of steel around her midsection. She could barely breathe. “Can I take my pillow with me?”
His cousin shook his head, prying Mason’s arms from around her. “Your pillow would like to breathe.”
She took a deep breath and heard a snore. “He’s asleep!”
“Thankless,” Preston muttered, motioning for two men to join him. “That’s what kind of job I have. Tomorrow, he won’t remember. You’ll still be blushing from where he felt you up in front of the entire EMT crew, yet I’ll still be labeled as the horn dog of the family.”
They worked in tandem to pick up Mason’s over six-foot-tall frame, grunting as they lifted him over the gurney.
Preston turned to her. “I’ll work my mojo and add you to his visitor list. Fiancée, okay?”
“No!” Gosh, she could only imagine the ramifications of that. Word would spread faster than a head full of lice at a sleepover.
“Fine.” He jotted down some notes as Mason was wheeled away to the ambulance. “Therapist it is, and don’t forget to bring Bomber with you when you come.”
Before she could say another word, they loaded Mason into the back. Preston jumped inside and sped off.
Three of her students grinned at her as they finally joined her. The other two played quietly with Bomber. “I don’t think we should play with him.”
The children’s faces fell.
“Aw, man.”
“C’mon, Miss Skylar. Just a little bit longer? He’s so fluffy!”
“I know, but Bomber’s a work dog and he’s not supposed to play with children because he’ll have so much fun he won’t ever want to work again.” Or at least, she didn’t think they were supposed to play with children. Brushing off her clothes, she stood and started back to her house.
“Ooooooh,” the kids said in unison, following her.
“But, we can bring him inside the house and you can watch over him while we wait for your parents to pick you up.”
“Yay!”
Bomber let out a low woof. That had to be dog for yes.
Grabbing her cell phone, she texted the parents of her students and walked with the kids, plus one dog, up the back porch steps. Her reflection caught her as the pack ran inside. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were flushed, and—she gasped—Mason had managed to unsnap her bra without even unbuttoning her shirt.
She was never wearing a front-closure bra again. Or at least around that man. Not that she planned to get close enough for him to attempt to take her bra off. Though, it had been a really long time since anyone other than her had taken her bra off.
She dropped into the closest chair and pressed her fingers against her temples, rubbing firmly.
“You wanted to be neighborly, Skylar. Here’s your chance.”
Chapter Two
‡
Mason came to, vision blurry and head pounding. All around him was white and headless voices. Talking, talking, talking. They never stopped.
Damn. They needed to stop.
His eyes focused, and he realized he was staring up at the ceiling tiles. No cracks in them, just endless white upon white. Honestly, they should put a maze pattern, maybe even make them look like clouds so he could find the shapes. Someone should really look into that.
But not him. He fucking hated hospitals.
“Mason,” his mother exclaimed.
Damn Preston and his promise not to tell the family. “I’m fine,” he croaked before she could really get worked up. Although she was probably already worked up.
Her hand gripped his, making the IV pinch a bit. “My poor boy. Why didn’t you tell us you needed more help?”
Mason brought his gaze down to her, staring up into her warm eyes. Dinah Lawson was a good-looking woman who had aged well over the years despite the fact that she’d raised eight boys who would have put any other woman in an early grave with their stunts. Only a few strands of silver glinted in her already light-colored hair, and her face was lightly lined. Normally, his mother was all smiles, but today, her lips were trembling and she kept blinking. A lot.
“Really, son. I could move in for a bit.” She glanced away. “I should have known. A mother should know these things.”
She was fighting tears, he realized, and the sharp retort that had threatened to shoot out of his mouth was swallowed.
“Momma, even if you had been there, it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he began in what he hoped was a gentle voice. “I slipped outside. Mainly because I wasn’t paying attention. My neighbor called 911.
“So, if you should be upset at anyone, it’s her,” he added. “In fact, someone needs to call her because she has my damn dog.”
Bomber chose that exact moment to jump up on his bed. All the other voices in the room stopped talking.
Son of a gun. “She’s in the room, isn’t she?”
Dinah nodded. “Perhaps you should practice using your inside voice next time.”
Ah, that soft reprimand stung like hell. “Thanks for bringing, Bomber, Skylar.” Yeah, he could be an asshole, but he wasn’t about to stay one. Skylar had come through for him, and that meant something.
His mother moved away as she stepped into his line of vision. Skylar still wore the same outfit she’d had on earlier today when he’d laid in her lap, crying like a baby. Or at least, he thought it was the same outfit. He didn’t remember much after Preston gave him the sedative.
“You’re welcome.”
“Preston mentioned that Skylar is your therapist of sort?” his mother asked, but he knew it wasn’t a question. “Is musical therapy something your doctors want you to try?”
Skylar laughed, a light sound that made his body hum in response. “He doesn’t like my music.”
“I don’t like your kids’ music, but I do like that station you put on every night,” he grumbled. “She’s got a marching band performing—off-key—Monday through Friday.”
“Your son threatened to call the sheriff if I didn’t stop,” she tapped a finger against her chin, “those tone-deaf brats from performing.”
“Mason Pierce Lawson,” his mother gasped. “That was ugly and uncalled for.”
“No, their music is ugly and uncalled for,” he shot back. “Day in, day out, all I hear is boom and crash and the whistle of…” He let his words trail away, unwilling to reveal more. Bomber scooted closer to him, as if he sensed the rising frustration in Mason’s body. “Good boy,” he whispered.
“I see,” Dinah said as understanding dawned in her eyes. “Have you explained that to Skylar?”
“No,” Skylar said.
“She asked me, not you,” he snapped, and Dinah cleared her throat. Turning to his mother, he said, “No, ma’am.”
“Why don’t you try it now while your mom and I grab a cup of coffee from the café?” his dad said.
Great. His dad had heard him be an ass to two women and since one of them was his mother, David would really take him to task as soon as he was out of the hospital.
“I’m listening,” Skylar said.
“I have… issues with loud, abrupt noises. Crowds, too, which means being around my family is out,” he mumbled.
“My A/C is on the fritz, so I have to keep the windows up while they’re with me until I can afford to replace my HVAC.”
He hadn’t considered that, and he was grateful she didn’t take the famil
y issue and try to fix him.
“But I can have them practice quieter pieces. They prefer the loud ones, and we’re practicing Stars and Stripes Forever so we can play at the Fourth of July Festival next month. Two of my students have parents returning home from deployment and will be there as a surprise,” she said.
Yet another thing he hadn’t considered. “I guess you can practice the loud pieces—I can get a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.”
Skylar smiled and drew closer to his bed. “We could practice very softly, and I can put a mute on the cymbals.”
“What’s a mute?”
“It’s like a rubber Frisbee that can stretch across the entire thing so that when they crash together it’s more of a bump,” she explained. “And I can pull out the ones for the drums too.”
“You’re an angel,” he heard himself say. What in the hell were they pumping into him?
She wrinkled her nose. “A selfish angel. I could have used them before now but chose not to.” Sighing, she tilted her to one side. “A good neighbor would have asked you about the noise level. I’m sorry.”
A nurse entered the room, checked the machines, his IV, and made some notes on her clipboard.
Well, there went his last reason for being pissed at her. “I suppose I could have introduced myself and actually talked to you.” Warmth flowed through his body when she smiled at him. Man, that smile was awesome and full of nice teeth. He had to have braces when he was younger. Were braces responsible for her perfect smile?
“Thank you and yes, for three years,” she said, her brow furrowing.
“Huh?” His eyes closed and then opened. He was floating now, and it felt so damn good. He’d loved the water ever since he could remember. Loved eating crab on the beach. “Love surfing, too. One time I crashed into the Avalon pier, but I don’t usually go that far north to surf. Just stay around here and Ocracoke. I want to surf again.”
“Sounds fun.” A hand brushed his hair back, but he wasn’t sure if it was Skylar or his imagination. “And I know you’ll surf again.”
“The ocean’s peaceful, even when it’s stormin’.” So peaceful.
“Stop fighting, Mason. Go to sleep, sweet boy.”
He forced his sleep-heavy eyes wide open at his mother’s voice. As comforting as it sounded, he wanted the woman who had been talking to him. “Skylar has to pick me up tomorrow.”
“But the doctor says you need—”
“Promise me, and tell my brothers to stay home,” he said as darkness began to claim him.
“I can do it, Mrs. Lawson. It’s not trouble at all,” Skylar said, and he smiled.
Or at least, he tried to because, suddenly, a wave appeared and washed over him, carrying his broken body out to sea.
*
Holy shit. Skylar had actually shown up. Again.
Mason blinked at the sight of Skylar waiting for him near the entrance of the hospital. She wore a gauzy blouse with one of those flower patterns around the neckline and a pair of white shorts that showcased her long, tan legs.
He’d always had a thing for long legs. He’d also always had a thing for breasts, too. Truth be told, he was your typical red-blooded male who appreciated the female body and liked to worship it as much as possible.
“Hey you.” Skylar smiled at him, but that smile was tinged with pity. He didn’t want her fucking pity.
“You’re late,” he said, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the wheelchair. Of course, they made him use one because God forbid he walked out of there on his own two feet. Not that he could walk on both feet at the moment, but that didn’t signify.
She smiled. “Seems to me that I’m right on time.”
He frowned. Yeah, she was right on time, without even knowing what time to be here. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
The nurse glared at him, but he ignored her. She’d been glaring at him ever since he’d woken up, cursing her, the doctor, and anyone else within shouting distance. Hell, he should be the one glaring at her with all the damn poking and prodding she’d done to him this morning.
God, he hated hospitals. Hated the stench of bleach. The stark whiteness of the interior. No matter how many framed landscapes they nailed to the wall, he would never find hospitals peaceful. Hospitals were death and pain.
Skylar started for him, but he shook his head. “Don’t need your help.”
“You really don’t,” she said, drawing closer. “But I’m here anyway.”
Bomber marched up to him and shoved his nose in his hand. “That’s a boy,” Mason said quietly. A sense of calm began to come over him. He knew it was the dog. He’d done research about the effect of animals on people. Well, pets, anyway. Technically, Bomber wasn’t his pet, but that didn’t mean Mason couldn’t think of him like one.
“Anyway,” Mason heard Skylar say, “I wanted to talk to this very nice nurse about what needs to be done once you get home.”
Nurse Crabbypants almost cracked a smile at that. Probably because Skylar had dismissed his cranky ass and taken charge of the situation.
Not that he liked that kind of thing.
“Hi, I’m Skylar Jernigan.” She extended a hand, and the nurse shook it. “Mr. Lawson and I are neighbors. Is there anything special that needs to be done for him once I get him home?”
Nurse Crabbypants grunted. “Nothing that I could suggest without being fired.” She swung her gaze to him. “But for that one, I’m willing to risk it.”
Skylar bit her lip.
Grimacing and grasping the extra rim above the wheel tops, he headed to the exit, Bomber at his side. He didn’t give a damn what the nurse had to say because he already knew what needed to be done. Rest, exercise, a healthy diet, pain management, and reintegration into society.
Ha! Society could kiss his ass. As for the rest…he couldn’t fucking sleep, he exercised for as long as his leg could handle it, and he would eat whatever the hell he wanted—which was next to nothing because he managed his pain by drinking.
The automatic doors opened with a swoosh.
“You won’t get very far if you don’t let me drive you,” Skylar said from behind.
“I’ll roll my ass home if I have to,” he grumbled. The wheelchair jerked, and he glanced behind him. Smiling, Skylar held on to the handles at the top. “Let go,” he ordered.
“Only if you agree to let me drive you home.”
Did she really think he’d…yeah, she probably did, and he probably would just to prove a point if it were one of his brothers. But there was something in her green-eyed gaze that gave him pause. She looked determined.
To win him over? To get her way? Not that any of it mattered. He would let her drive him home because he didn’t feel like exerting the energy required to get his ass there. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t test Miss Determined’s resolve. “We’ll need to stop by Shake, Rattle, & Roll.”
“My favorite place for strawberry-banana milkshakes.”
His eyes narrowed. “And the bank.”
“Perfect. I have a deposit to make.”
Well, damn. “Drugstore, too.”
“The nurse already called in your prescription.” She glanced up, seemingly waiting for something. “So it should be ready by the time we’re done with the other errands.”
The wind blew through his hair as a car passed in front of them, and he suddenly realized she was pushing his ass to her car. Son of a gun. Turning around, he exhaled and tried not to let embarrassment show on his face in case anyone was looking.
Yeah, he was a grumpy son of a bitch right now, but damn it, he didn’t want help.
“Did you forget to let go?” he asked.
“You haven’t asked me to take you home,” she pointed out. “You’ve told me to shuttle you around town.”
He shifted to one side, his leg muscles pulling tight. “You don’t want to be neighborly anymore?”
“I really want a milkshake.” She stopped beside a four-door sedan. �
��Bomber sat up front on the way here.”
His jaw worked. “I’m supposed to sit in the back?”
“You can sit wherever you want, except the driver’s seat,” she said sweetly, but there was a bit of a bite to it.
He’d always been a man who favored a bit of tart in his desserts. “I can’t drive, Skylar.” Patting his leg, he said, “Or do you think these bandages are for shits and giggles?”
She opened the car door—the front passenger side, he noticed. “I think you need to get in.”
“You’re not going to help me?”
“No, a big man like you doesn’t need my help.” She gave him her back and motioned to Bomber.
Mason admired the view of her perky ass—the woman was a panorama of excellent views—as she helped the dog inside her car. Add in her sexy-as-hell phone voice and she was a wet dream.
He frowned.
Only, he didn’t dream anymore. He had nightmares. With a grimace, he shoved himself out of his chair and put his weight on his good leg while grabbing the car door. Sweat broke out on his face and lower back as he attempted to maneuver himself.
“Damn it,” he growled, trying not to fall.
Small hands lightly touched his arm, bolstering him. Eyes the color of the forest stared up at him. “Thank you for catching me,” she said. “I slipped on a bumpy part.”
“We both know the parking lot is level.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, I still feel a little off balance in a new place.”
“Is that why you don’t go into town much?” he asked, then wanted to rip out his tongue. He wasn’t into making small talk—at least not anymore—and he sure as hell didn’t want her to know how much he listened to her car back in and out of the driveway each day. It was like a form of entertainment.
“I go into town enough,” she said as he finally—Thank God—settled into the seat. “But my classes and substitute teaching keep me busy. I haven’t had time to make friends yet.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he grumbled. “I can only imagine the racket—”
She laughed, and his gut tightened.
“What’s so funny?”
Love So Irresistible Page 2