Whispers (Argent Springs)

by Cindy Stark

  “Shit.” He didn’t want to spend the day all doped up on pain killers and muscle relaxers, but he supposed he didn’t have a choice.

  “There’s not much else we can do, love. If you’re in that much pain, we have to fix it.”

  And he was. “I know.” He didn’t like being down, didn’t like not being able to take care of things.

  Erin moved closer, and he couldn’t resist outlining her curves with his eyes. Funny how the sight of her stole some of his pain.

  Annabelle swatted his arm. When he lifted his gaze to hers, she deliberately glanced at Erin before looking at him again as though to say, yeah, you’re busted. “I asked if you can roll onto your side so we can get the pack beneath you.”

  She said it as though she’d actually asked the question out loud, but he was pretty sure she hadn’t. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

  Erin moved next to the bed, and when he started to roll, she gave him a small push to help. He held his breath as pain washed through him. A second later, she released him, and he swallowed his retort as he fell back onto the bed. He’d already complained enough for the day.

  A moment later, a chilled sensation soaked through his shirt to his skin, instantly giving him a small measure of relief. “Thank you.”

  Erin leaned over him, her mass of curls falling forward as she fluffed the pillow behind him. He turned his head so that one strand of hair caressed his cheek.

  Ah, damn. It had been an innocent enough gesture on his part, but he’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, causing attraction to slam into him. He couldn’t look away or ignore her now. Her nearness was the only pain killer that was available to him at the moment, and he wasn’t about to reject it.

  She straightened. “How does that feel? Any better?”

  “It’s good,” he managed, suddenly grateful for the pain that kept his desires from manifesting physically and letting both women in the room know where his thoughts had headed.

  “Good neck support will take some of the strain off your back,” Erin said as though she’d needed a reason to be close to him.

  He wasn’t about to argue with her.

  “Aunt Annabelle has the pain killer for you. Take it and eat something while I go lock up your shop and stop by the doctor’s house. His wife is there and will give me the meds.”

  He stared up at her, admiring the green flecks in her hazel eyes, and the way she placed one hand on her hip as she gave him orders like she wouldn’t take any more sass from him. That was okay. As long as she played nurse, he didn’t intend to give her any grief. “I will.”

  She stepped back, a surprised look on her face. “Good then. I’ll be back. Once the pain has calmed a little and you feel like moving a bit, I’ll check out your back muscles. I should be able to feel if something’s strained, or if it really could be a disk.”

  Annabelle took her hand and squeezed it. “That’s so nice of you, Erin. I’m sure Rick would be grateful.”

  He sure as hell wasn’t complaining about having her hands on him. “Yeah, thanks.”

  She turned and left the room. A second later, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t like her,” Annabelle said, breaking the fog that had clouded his brain.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Annabelle tsked. “You can’t fool me. I saw you looking at her like a man starved for love.”

  “For sex maybe,” he said under his breath.

  She sat the plated sandwich on his belly. “I heard that.”

  “What do you want me to say, Annabelle? You parade every single available woman in front of me. What do you think I’m going to think about?”

  “Because I want you to be happy. Bite,” she said, ignoring his question as she held the sandwich to his mouth.

  He lifted his arm, ignoring the pain shooting across his lower back. “I can feed myself.”

  “Being alone for too long is not a good thing. Melinda left over seven months ago. She’s not coming back, and you need to face it.”

  Shit. If he could get up and walk away, he would, but Annabelle had him trapped in his own bed.

  “I know that,” he said with more snap than he intended, but his old friend didn’t flinch. She was a tough old broad, for sure. “I’m finished with her.”

  She leaned closer. “Are you lying to me, Rick Hartigan? Just to make me go away?”

  “I’m not. God, Annabelle, what do you want me to say? I finally pulled my head out, okay? It’s over whether I wanted it or not. End of story.”

  “I’m sorry, love. I know she hurt you.” Annabelle sighed, and he recognized the care and concern on her face. She’d been like a second mother to him. “Like I said, I just want you to be happy. Erin is a good girl. Why don’t you give her a chance?”

  “You can’t make people fall in love. It doesn’t work that way.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, looking older and wearier than she had in a long time. “You know I worry about you like you were my own son.”

  His heart softened. “I know. But I’m not alone. I have you.” He took her hand and squeezed. There would never be another lady like his dear Annabelle. Though Erin might give her a run for her money if given enough time.

  “I wish you’d at least consider Erin.” She batted her lashes, and even at her age, her flirtatious manner didn’t fail her. But they were done talking about his love life.

  He shifted a little on his bed to make more room for her, and his muscles tightened again, but at least the pain wasn’t quite so piercing this time. The cold must be doing something for him. “How was your date this morning?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Well, he’s no Henderson, but I like him. He’s a great cook and conversationalist, and an even better kisser.”

  “Don’t say it. I don’t want to think about another man hugging my surrogate momma.”

  She winked. “Too bad. I’ll kiss him again if I get the chance.”

  Rick couldn’t help but chuckle. “You live every minute, don’t you?”

  She snorted. “That’s what life’s for, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” He took another big bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed it down. “Have I eaten enough for you to hand over that pill now? I’m not hungry, but I sure would like something to take off the edge.”

  She pulled the white pill from a pocket in her apron. He’d known that was exactly where she would have kept it. She handed it to him, along with a glass of sweet tea. “I’ll leave you in peace now. See if you can rest. I’ve learned sleep, if you can get it, is the best thing to take you out of your misery.” She stood and patted his shoulder before heading toward the door.

  “Annabelle?” he called after her, and she turned. “Thanks. You know I love you.”

  Her eyes grew teary. “I love you, too, Rick. You sleep so you can feel better.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  Erin walked slowly into Rick’s muted room, the last vestiges of afternoon sun barely reaching his windowsill. Waning light coaxed shadows from the corners as deep breaths came from the direction of his bed. She seriously hated to wake him. She’d disturbed him earlier when she’d brought a muscle relaxer to him. He’d taken it and then had promptly gone back to sleep.

  But dinner time was close, and she needed to know if he was okay. She was almost certain his pain came from strained muscles, but what if she was wrong?

  The floor creaked beneath her feet as she approached his bed, but his breaths remained even. He’d rolled onto his side with one hand flung out over the edge of the bed. The fact that he wasn’t flat on his back was a good sign.

  She took advantage of his unconscious state to look at him closer.

  He was attractive, no doubt, with his wide shoulders and trim waist. Even relaxed, his thigh muscles and biceps seemed powerful. When she’d walked up the stairs with him, side by side, he’d seemed so perfect next to her. But then, she shouldn’t even be having thoughts like tho
se. Especially not about him. He’d made it clear where he stood.

  She couldn’t forget that he’d said if he was looking, he’d be looking at her. But he was waiting for another woman and wasn’t interested in her that way, and she could respect that. She wasn’t interested, either.

  But if she was, it might be with someone like him.

  Only someone less argumentative.

  She smiled. He’d let her win a round earlier, which had surprised her. She never thought she would see the day, but he’d also been in a place of pain, so maybe that’s why he let things go.

  The phone on his bedside table buzzed, and she automatically looked at it. You’re breaking my heart flashed across the top of the screen along with Melinda’s name. Erin blinked as guilt lashed at her for catching part of an incoming text message and invading his privacy.

  Had something happened between them? It definitely sounded like it.

  She glanced between Rick and his phone, his deep, restful breaths the only sound in the room. She shouldn’t do it. It wasn’t right.

  It nearly killed her to not open his text.

  She watched him for a few more seconds as she tried to decide what to do. If a massage would help, she’d be more than happy to lend her skills. But he was still sound asleep, and her presence in his room hadn’t affected that.

  Between hurting his back and dealing with his personal life, he’d probably had a hell of a day.

  She placed a hand on his forehead, his skin warm and smooth beneath her fingertips. She wasn’t sure why she touched him, maybe just to reassure herself that he was okay.

  The arm he’d had hanging over the edge of the bed was suddenly around her, catching her across the backs of her thighs just below her butt.

  “Erin,” he mumbled, still groggy from sleep.

  She’d been caught in her perusal, and now he had her trapped. “Yes?”

  “You’re here.”

  “I came to see if you’re okay.” She gently removed his arm from around her, certain he hadn’t meant to be so personal with her. “How are you feeling?”

  He groaned and rolled onto his back, blinking sleepy eyelids and barely focusing on her. “A little better, I think.”

  “That’s good. If you can roll to your stomach, I’ll see if you have any severely knotted muscles.”

  “Okay.” His movements were slow and clumsy, probably from the meds he’d taken.

  Erin glanced at his position on the bed. He’d rolled over farther away from her, making it hard to reach him. It made her uncomfortable to do so, but she climbed up on the bed, kneeling next to him. He had his face away from her, so at least it made that part easier.

  She pressed the wrinkles from his T-shirt so that she had a smooth surface and began running her hands down his back, searching for culprits. The fact that only a thin piece of cotton kept her from touching his bare skin did not escape her notice. Her fingers itched to rub oil over him, and she had to fight to keep her feelings professional. She had to admit, she preferred to work on her cuter male clients, but in her line of work, she was required to treat everyone equally. She would have to do the same with Rick.

  A thick mass of muscles on both sides of his spine near his lumbar region caught her attention. “These are really bad here.”

  He mumbled in agreement.

  She scooted in closer and checked the muscles covering his neck and traps. They were tight, but not a tangled mass like farther down his back. She slid her thumbs down both sides of his spine until she reached his critical area again. “Would you like me to grab my massage table and set it up in here? I really think it might help you.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he said in response, seeming more than a little out of it.

  “Okay, you stay right here. I’ll be back in a minute.” She headed to her room to collect her tools, hoping she knew what she was doing offering a personal service to him. She was used to touching people, just not him.

  She slung the bag containing her oil over her shoulder and lifted her massage table from the corner where she’d tucked it. She’d planned on offering massages to Annabelle, but hadn’t expected to make her services available to anyone else.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Erin’s nerves sizzled as she returned to his room. She would get as much pleasure from this as he would which might be considered bad form. But she was really and truly doing him a favor, so she had to focus on that.

  Rick hadn’t moved from the spot she’d left him in, and she had to wonder if he’d fallen back asleep. She quietly set up her table and then returned to his bedside.

  “Rick?” She placed a hand on his back and nudged him a little. “Are you ready?”

  He responded by turning over on the bed and giving her a grunt of acceptance.

  “Let me help you.” She slid an arm beneath his shoulders, her breasts brushing his bicep, leaving their heads only inches apart. “It’s easier if you kind of roll as you get up.”

  He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and then followed her suggestions until he was in a sitting position. He leaned a little to the left, became unbalanced and shifted to the right. “The room is...”

  “Pain killers and muscle relaxers will do that to you. Just hang onto me, and I’ll help you get on my table. First though, you need to take off your shirt. Your pants, too, if you don’t mind.” Had she really just said that to him?

  He widened his semi-unfocused eyes and grinned. “I see how you work.”

  A sharp awareness shot through her, and she tried to ignore it. She’d been trained to handle customers who tried to make things seemed more than what they were. The only problem was, in this case, there were feelings of attraction on her part. “Let’s keep this professional.” Normally she’d add another sentence offering to get another therapist for the customer if the he didn’t feel he could play by the rules.

  “I’m just teasing you.” He lifted the edge of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head exposing an amazing amount of tantalizing flesh. He handed his shirt to her, and she wrapped her hands around the soft cotton, trying not to drool as she watched his fingers fumble with the button at his waist. He undid it, then unzipped his pants, exposing a pair of blue cotton boxer briefs.

  He swayed a little as he stood, and she put a steadying hand on his arm. She averted her eyes as he slid his jeans down, knowing if she stared at him she’d lose her ability to remain professional.

  “Can you help me?” he asked as he plopped back down on the bed.

  She swallowed as she looked at him. He sat with his feet out, a puddle of jeans tangled around them. She bent forward and slid them from him, placing his shirt and pants, still warm from his body, on the bed. She ignored her erratic heartbeat as she grabbed one bicep. “Let’s get you on the table.” Maybe if she acted like this was just a job, it would begin to feel that way.

  With lumbering movements, he finally settled on her workstation. She removed the bottle of massage oil from her bag and squirted some in her hand. “I’m sorry if this is a little cold. I don’t have my warmer with me.”

  She held the oil in her hands for a few moments trying to heat it and then she slathered it on his exposed back. Her fingers cruised over solid flesh, and she had to resist the urge to dig in her nails like she might while making love.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to gain control over her reaction to him. Touching him like this was far more erotic than it should be, making her question her ability to remain detached as she performed her work.

  Trying to focus on the job and not the man, she moved to the head of the bed, working his traps first like she always did with customers, trying to get him to relax.

  “Damn,” he whispered, the sound of his pleasure sending a myriad of sensations through her. “That’s good.”

  His words had the effect of a lover whispering in her ear, making it nearly impossible to stay focused.

  His muscles softened as she manipulated them, and she dug her thumb in, going deeper into t
he muscle tissue.

  He released a deep breath.

  “Let me know if I hurt you.”

  “You’re not,” he whispered again.

  She studied him as she worshipped his body with her hands. Short, dark hairs that had been shaved along the base of his skull were beginning to grow. Impressive strength lay dormant in his shoulders and arms, all pliable beneath her fingertips, and she enjoyed memorizing each hill and valley of his back.

  He released another sigh, and she had to stop herself from doing the same as heat pooled at her center. It was a normal, physiological reaction, she had to remind herself. He was an attractive man, but she was an adult, and she wouldn’t act on her feelings.

  She angled in, using her elbow and forearm to gain access to even deeper muscles. Her hair tickled her arm, and she realized it had curtained across his head. She gritted her teeth and lifted away from him. She should have remembered to pull it back before she’d started.

  When she finished the top half of his back, she slowly began to make her way lower. She dragged her hands down the length of his back, stretching those muscles.

  Then she stopped.

  In order to fully massage all the muscles in his lower back, she would have to move his underwear out of the way. Doing so was common practice, no big deal with the rest of her clients. She did what she needed to give a good massage. But this was different.

  She inhaled and bit her bottom lip, waiting for his reaction as she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband and tugged down his briefs a few inches.

  He didn’t move, other than a slight stiffening of his muscles which could be normal, too, because of more skin being exposed to the cool air.

  The smooth skin at the top of his ass was visible to her, and playing peek-a-boo only left her wanting to see more.

  Desperate to finish before she embarrassed herself, she moved on. She poured more oil into her hands, then spread it across his lower back. She warmed up and softened the hard masses, and then dug in deep.

  A quick intake of breath assured her he was still awake.