Plain Jayne

by Laura Drewry

  “What’s wrong?” His gaze shifted from Carter to Jayne, who tried to get her eyes to move from him to Carter, but it was too much effort.

  “Song’s not over,” she said.

  “Yes it is,” Carter muttered.

  He must have been lying because Jayne could still hear it even after the dance floor cleared.

  “Did you know she fell?” Carter sounded angry, but that must have been the fog in Jayne’s brain because Carter didn’t get angry. Nick got angry.

  “She said she was fine.”

  “Right,” Carter snorted. “Does she look fine?”

  “What’s a matter with how I look?”

  “Nothing. You’re gorgeous.” Carter steered Jayne through the crowd, but the toes of her shoes kept catching on the floor, and the door was so far away. “Give me your keys, we’re going home.”

  “I don’t have keys,” she said. “Could we sit down for a second?”

  “Not you.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and held out his hand to someone … oh, there. Nick. And Linda.

  “You stole my song.”

  “I did what?” There was a large wet stain down the front of Linda’s dress. Nick’s fault. He should have warned her.

  “My song. It’s ‘Your Song.’ ”

  “I don’t have a song.” Linda’s perfectly wrinkle free forehead puckered.

  “Yes you do. You took my song.” Every breath loosened Jayne’s muscles more until it became harder and harder to stand, never mind hold her head up.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” If she didn’t stop frowning like that, she was going to have permanent wrinkles on that perfect skin. “What’s your song?”

  “I just said it’s ‘Your Song.’ ” A mild buzzing started in Jayne’s head. “But now it’s your song—”

  “Right, and who’s on first.” Carter adjusted his grip around her waist. “Just ignore her, Lisa, she’s a little out of it. Nick, keys.”

  “Nick.” Jayne blinked past Linda to try and focus on his face. Oooh, he had his worried eyes on. Funny how he could change them from angry to worried to … whatever. Sort of like Mr. Potato Head.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Worried voice, too.

  “Besides the fact she’s hopped up on Coronas and T3s, I’m guessing she has a mild concussion.”

  “How the … shit.”

  “Do you need our help getting her home?” Linda’s voice. Linda the party planner. Linda the quiet one with the pretty face, the perfect hair, and the big wet beer stain on her pretty summer dress.

  “Thanks, but we’ll be fine.” Carter stopped walking long enough to adjust his grip on Jayne. “Hopefully she won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

  “Any of what?” Jayne frowned. “Oooh, Carter, I didn’t know you had angry eyes, too.”

  “I save them for the biggest idiots I know.”

  “Mmm.” She nodded slowly, then frowned as his words settled in her brain. “Me? I’m the biggest idiot?”

  “No, sweetheart, not you.” Carter smiled at her, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Even in her present fog, she could tell that. “Nick is.”

  “Um, Carter.” Jayne blinked, focused, and tried to whisper. “He’s right beside you.”

  “He knows.” Why did Nick’s voice sound so weird? She would’ve expected him to be mad that Carter just called him an idiot, but instead, it sounded like he agreed. Boy oh boy, the fog in her head was really skewing things. “I’ll drive.”

  “You’ve done enough, just give me the keys.” As soon as Nick handed them over, Carter was moving again, so Jayne had no choice but to stagger along with him or be dragged as he called back over his shoulder. “Go dance with Lisa.”

  Linda’s voice again; soft, feminine, and sweet. “Come on, Nick. Carter’ll look after her.”

  “Okay, bye!” Jayne lifted her arm to wave back at them, but it was as though her bones and muscles had been turned into cooked spaghetti. “She seems nice.”

  “Yeah, she’s great,” Carter muttered. “Do I need to carry you?”

  Next thing she knew, Carter had her belted into Nick’s truck and they were pulling out of the parking lot. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back to rest, but Carter pinched her arm.

  “Ouch!”

  “Are you sure you only took three?”

  It seemed to take her a long time to focus, but she counted back again, slowly, and nodded. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

  “It’s not good, but I guess it’s better than four.” His voice was sounding farther and farther away. “I can’t believe you didn’t thunder in before now.”

  “Nah. I’m tough,” she muttered. “I’m … just … so … tired.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” His choking laughter was the last thing she heard.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was because something kept shoving her. Wrong. Not something. Someone.

  Carter.

  “Where—?” She was on her bed at Nick’s house, a bag of frozen peas on the pillow beside her, and Carter yanking her jeans down. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She jerked upright, instantly regretted it and had to grab her head with both hands to keep it from exploding off her neck.

  “Relax, Jay,” he smirked. “You’re wearing half your beer and you can’t get into bed like that.”

  “Stop it—I can do it myself.” With more effort than she’d admit, Jayne managed to pull her jeans off, thankful her T-shirt was good and long. Carter propped her up, made her drink some water, then checked her pupils and felt around her head again until she swatted his hands away.

  “I’m fine,” she grumbled. “Just let me sleep.”

  “Not just yet.” He slipped his hand under her elbow and waved toward the door. “Let’s walk a bit.”

  “What for?” The throbbing started again, right up the center of her skull.

  “Humor me, Jay. Do a lap of the kitchen, have some more water, and then I’ll let you sleep for a while.”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her elbow out of his grip and made it almost all the way around the island before she had to grab the nearest chair for balance. “See? I’m fine.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the door opened behind her.

  “What the hell’s this?” Nick growled.

  “I’m walking,” she answered, hoping if she talked quietly, he’d take the hint and do it, too. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “Half naked?”

  Oh yeah. No pants. Standing in the middle of his kitchen. With him. And Carter. And Linda. Oooh, she had eyes like Abby.

  Jayne took a step, swayed, then made a grab for the chair again, but Nick was already there. He pulled her arm around his shoulders, then looped his arm around her waist.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  Carter stood at the fridge, making a God-awful amount of noise with the ice maker. It looked like he was smiling, but that didn’t make sense, because there was nothing funny about this.

  As she eased her head down on the pillow, Jayne curled onto her side, closed her eyes, and groped for the duvet that was like a warm thick cloud, but before she could reach it, Nick tugged it up under her chin. She didn’t open her eyes, but she knew he was still there; his scent lingered, and his presence was undeniable, even before the sound of his knee cracking into a crouch gave him away.

  There was a slow crinkling sound as he pressed the peas against the back of her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” His voice, quiet now, was close.

  “Hmmm.” She tucked her hand under her cheek and sighed. “ ’Cause you get angry eyes when you worry.”

  “Jayne.”

  “I hate …” She inhaled slowly. Good Lord, he smelled good. “I hate when I make you get angry eyes.”

  “I don’t have angry eyes.”

  “Hmmm.” It took some effort, but she managed to open her right eye for a second. “Liar.”

  His fingers pu
shed her hair back, then he sighed, slow and long. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Uh-uh. Go back to the Stomp. Go dance with Linda.”

  “Lisa.”

  “Right,” she sighed. “Her. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  The air shifted as he got to his feet, but still he lingered. She tried to stay awake a little longer, but it was too much, the weight of it dragged her down, down, down, until the last thing she remembered was the touch of his finger as it whispered against her cheek.

  Chapter Five

  It’s called a sense of humor—you should get one—they’re nice.

  Duckie, Pretty in Pink

  Nick was still awake when his watch chirped the alarm at two o’clock. He pushed off the couch and padded quietly into Jayne’s room where she lay in the exact same position as she’d been in when he checked her an hour ago.

  According to Carter, she’d be fine, and it wasn’t necessary to wake her up, but that didn’t mean Nick wouldn’t check on her. Every hour might be a bit excessive, but better safe than sorry. He’d already lost his wife to a stupid accident; he wasn’t going to lose Jayne, too.

  It took all of two seconds to make sure she was still breathing, yet he stood beside the bed for a long time after, just staring down at her. She wasn’t as pale as she’d been earlier, but every once in a while her brow puckered in sleep, and given the size of that bump on her head, it was no wonder.

  The second he heard her scream into the phone, he should’ve been in his truck heading for her store. Instead, he let her drive home and then gave her attitude when she was two minutes late. She was damn lucky she didn’t do more damage in that fall, and instead of telling him about it, she’d acted like she was fine to avoid his “angry eyes.” What the hell were “angry eyes,” anyway? And why did she think she caused them?

  On top of everything, he’d thrown Lisa in a cab and dragged her back here, only to find Jayne prancing around the kitchen in her underwear. Even after Carter explained, there was no question Lisa wasn’t happy about it, and he couldn’t blame her.

  With an exhausted sigh, Nick slumped down against the side of the bed. No point going all the way back to the living room again if he was just going to turn around and come right back here in another hour.

  He reset the alarm, then slouched down a little, so he could rest the back of his head on the edge of the bed. He tried to sleep, he really did, closed his eyes and everything, but sleep wouldn’t come. After the four a.m. check, he started to settle back on the floor when her fingers slipped through his hair and over the top of his head.

  There was something in her touch, something that made him lean into it, even as her fingers moved down his forehead until she was poking him in the eye.

  “Still angry.” Her voice was a slow murmur, full of sleep, and her fingers dangled over his forehead.

  “I’m not angry.” Nick eased her fingers away from his eyes and pushed her hand back so it rested on the top of his head. “Get some sleep.”

  A muffled snort sounded against her pillow. “Says the guy who’s been sitting on the floor keeping vigil all night.”

  “Not all night.”

  “Close enough.” Her hand slid down the back of his head with the bare whisper of a touch, but he felt it all the way down to his toes. “Look, I feel stupid enough about this, and having you camp out on the floor there isn’t helping.”

  Complete sentences and no more slurred words. Good sign, right? Still. What if she started bleeding out of her ear while he was on the other side of the house? It could happen.

  As if she’d read his mind, Jayne growled. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered, reluctantly pushing to his feet. “I’ve heard geese fart before.”

  A soft chuckle floated off her lips. “I’ve never understood what that meant.”

  “It means shut up and go back to sleep.” With a final sigh, he shuffled out to the living room and flopped down on the cushions, using the armrest as a pillow. He wasn’t going to sleep, he was just going to lie there and listen for the first sound of trouble.

  It was a good plan, right up until he fell asleep.

  As he came to, several things occurred to him before he even opened his eyes. The first was that he was sleeping on the couch, which he never did, the second was that he was under the blanket fully dressed, which hadn’t happened since he slept in Superman pajamas, and the third was that he wasn’t alone.

  One at a time, he opened his eyes to find Jayne perched on the cushion by his feet. Still a little pale, she’d pulled her hair back in one of those plastic claw things, and had, at some point, put on a pair of sweats.

  “Morning, sunshine.” She tried to hide her smirk behind her coffee mug. “Sleep well?”

  “Mmm.” Nick rolled onto his back and tried to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “And the goose egg?”

  “Barely the size of a golf ball.”

  “Good.” He blinked slowly, sat up, then reached for her mug. “Black?”

  A faint blush covered her cheeks as she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Figured after last night, I’d better avoid any unnecessary additives.”

  “Good idea.” The coffee was strong and plenty hot, which meant it was fresh, and that there was probably more in the pot. Thank God. “Is Carter up?”

  “He went home; said he had some stuff to do before his shift at the hospital.”

  Just as well. With Carter back at his own apartment in the city, Nick might have time to get over the idea of him taking off Jayne’s jeans last night. The rational side of his brain, the side that would trust Carter with his life, knew he was just being stupid. But the not-so-rational side, the side that knew Carter went through women like he went through tongue depressors … and the fact that this was Jayne … that side twitched.

  Nick threw back the blanket, swung his legs over the side of the couch, and stretched to a stand.

  “Come on,” he mumbled. “I’ll make breakfast.”

  “It’s after nine, Nick. I already ate.”

  “It’s what?” Not just after nine, but pushing half past. When was the last time he’d slept past seven? “Well, shit.”

  She followed him out to the kitchen and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Sorry about last night.” She tried to smile, but it looked more like a wince. “But in my defense, if the first Tylenol had worked like I thought it would, I never would have taken the other ones. They should really put some kind of warning on those prescription bottles.”

  “They do,” he chuckled. “In bright red and yellow stickers.”

  Her cheeks pinked a little deeper. “Okay, so it was stupid, but not as stupid as you spending half the night on the floor in case I swallowed my tongue.”

  Nick almost corrected her, but changed his mind before the words could form; after all, she could have just as easily swallowed her tongue as bled out of her ear. He poured himself some more coffee, then leaned back against the counter and watched her rub the rim of her mug.

  “You’re not shittin’ me this time, right? You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” When she finally looked up at him, the only thing her blue eyes gave away was her embarrassment over it all, but he watched for a few more seconds just to be sure there was no flicker of pain she was trying to hide. “The amazing Dr. Scott checked me over this morning and gave me two thumbs up. Really. I’m fine. Or I will be once I go have a shower.”

  She tipped her mug in a small salute and started to walk away.

  “Hang on a second.” He ducked into his bedroom and returned with the shopping bag he’d had since yesterday morning. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  He had to push the bag into her hands before she’d take it. “Open it and see.”

  He waited until she’d pulled the thick purple robe out of the
bag and held it up.

  “I just figured … when Katie’s having a hard time, she likes to curl up in hers, and I figured if anyone deserved a little curl-up time, it was you.”

  She hugged the robe to her chest and smiled, but it was one of those weird Jayne smiles that started out as a slow quiver and wobbled until she managed to get hold of it. There was something about those smiles that always left Nick wishing he could do more for her.

  On the one hand, it was cute that something as simple as a robe could make her that happy, but on the other hand … it was kind of sad. It was just a stupid robe.

  He dragged his toe against the floor and shrugged. “Can’t go wrong with purple, right?”

  After another couple of seconds, her smile evened out and she looked up at him. “The boy remembered.”

  Of course he remembered. He remembered all kinds of things, like when they were eight and he made her that stupid dandelion necklace; she’d worn it everywhere as though it was the Hope diamond instead of wilting yellow weeds. Or the way he felt when he finally realized the reason she never invited him to her birthday parties was because she’d never had one. Or the look on her face when he’d given her that song for her sixteenth birthday.

  “Listen. About last night.” Nick shuffled his feet a bit but couldn’t find a comfortable stance. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Forget it.” Typical Jayne, cutting him off before the conversation got too personal.

  He blew out a slow breath and grimaced up at her. “It’s still your song, Jayne.”

  “No it’s not. Not anymore.” Jayne’s smile faded to pale, but she managed to cling to the ends of it. “It’s okay, Nick. Lisa … it is Lisa, right? … she seems sweet and I don’t want to cause any of the problems I caused between you and Abby.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Right. Okay.” As if the eye roll wasn’t enough, she added a soft snort for good measure. “My point is, I’m going to do whatever I can to get on her good side, so if that means giving up my song, then … whatever. It’s fine.” It wasn’t even close to being fine, but there was no way to change it, so the only thing to do now was to move on.