“Here we go again,” Brandon muttered. “My sister, Siobhan, must be trying to get him to eat again.”
Lexia heard Khalil yell, “Vonnie, I said let it go!”
When they reached the door, Brandon gestured Lexia forward. “Go ahead. Maybe he won’t take your head off.”
Although he’d made the remark teasingly, his grim expression told all. “It’s going to take him some time to adjust.”
“I know. He’s the most easygoing of us all and it’s just hard seeing him like this.”
She felt for him, for their family. Steeling herself, she pushed the door open.
Khalil stopped midsentence. “Lexia?”
She gave him a tiny wave and walked fully into the room. A tall, curvy woman dressed to the nines in a gold suit that fit her like a glove turned and stared. She bore a strong resemblance to Brandon and Khalil, including eye color, except hers were a shade lighter, almost golden.
Brandon made the introductions. “Lexia, this is my sister, Siobhan. Vonnie, this is Lexia. She’s the one who was with Khalil when he got hurt and the owner of Oasis Café.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Siobhan,” Lexia said.
Siobhan smiled. “Same here. Thanks for being there with my brother, and bless you for taking over the café.”
Lexia returned her smile. “You’re welcome.” Siobhan handed her a cell.
“You can talk to him through here and he can read it on his.”
Because of Elyse, she already knew about the app, but nodded. She approached the bed and hoped she wasn’t next in line to have her head taken off.
* * *
Lexia stood to the left of the bed. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. I was worried about you.”
Khalil tried his best to sound cheerful. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
“I brought you something.” She placed a container on the bed tray and opened it.
The coffee cake. As much as he enjoyed it, right now the only thing he wanted was his hearing. “You didn’t need to bring that and I can’t eat.”
She frowned. “Are you on a special diet?”
“No.”
“Then you can eat it.” She rolled the tray in front of him and produced a fork.
He stared at her a long moment. “Lexia, I know you—” She lifted his left hand, moved it around, turned it over and wiggled his fingers. He snatched his hand back. “What are you doing?” Ignoring him, she leaned closer, cupped his jaw in her hand and ran her finger across his lips. Khalil brushed her hand aside. “What are you doing?”
“You said you couldn’t eat and I was trying to find out why. Your hand moves just fine and, with all the fussing you’re doing, there’s nothing wrong with your mouth, either. So, what’s your problem?”
Khalil read the words on the screen in disbelief. He met her challenging stare.
Lexia handed him the fork and gestured to the coffee cake. “Eat.”
He didn’t need to read the screen to know what she’d said. Siobhan stared at Lexia in shock and Brandon outright laughed. He didn’t need to hear to know that, either. He grudgingly took the fork, cut a piece of the cake and stuck it in his mouth. “Happy?”
She smiled and pointed toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
He nodded. As soon as the door closed, he shot a lethal glare at his brother. “Shut up, Brandon.”
Lexia was back in a flash holding a cup with a tea bag hanging from the side. “Decaf vanilla chai with one raw sugar and a dash of milk.” She peeked into the container and frowned.
“I know, I know. I’m eating.”
She smiled. “Hey, I’m just trying to finish that date you owe me. We got interrupted.”
Khalil shook his head and couldn’t stop the smile that crept out. “Hell, for all this badgering, you owe me a real date.”
Her eyes widened for a split second. “Okay.”
Their eyes held for a moment longer, then he resumed eating. Brandon and Siobhan slipped out the door, leaving Khalil and Lexia alone.
She reached into her purse and handed him his cell phone. “I found it after you were gone.”
“Thanks.” He had totally forgotten about the phone and was glad she’d found it, rather than someone else. Otherwise, it would be one more thing added to the list of things to do. He turned the power on and checked it out. Aside from a cracked screen, the phone still worked fine.
She held her hand out. “I’ll leave you my number just in case you need anything...or want to chat.”
He’d wanted her phone number—had planned to ask for it the day of the explosion—but couldn’t see her or any other woman being willing to go out with a man who was... He refused to say the word. Instead, he opened the new contact page and handed it to her. She input her information and passed it back.
When he finished eating, Lexia threw the empty container away. His gaze followed her and he still could not believe her ordering him around. Everybody else had approached him with pity, but not Lexia. And what was he thinking asking her on a date? He couldn’t take her out—not now. He wouldn’t be able to communicate with the waitstaff or her without these stupid phones. He didn’t even know if he could drive. And having her pick him up was out of the question.
Lexia came back and sat next to him. “What did the doctor say?”
Khalil repeated what Dr. Moyer had told him. “So I don’t know when my hearing will come back...which is why I don’t think we should have that date right now.”
She angled her head thoughtfully. “What does that have to do with anything? Lots of deaf people go out to eat.”
His jaw tightened. Deaf. Why did she have to call it that? He wasn’t deaf. He just had a temporary hearing loss. He pushed the tray aside and carefully shifted in the bed. “I’m a little tired. Thanks for bringing me the coffee cake.” He didn’t miss the flash of sadness in her eyes. “We can talk about the date thing once I get out of here and settled at home,” he added, trying to soften his abrupt manner.
Lexia stood. “That’s fine. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Do you need anything before I go?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll see you later.” She gave his hand a squeeze, hesitated, then leaned down to kiss his cheek.
Khalil impulsively shifted and turned what she meant as a friendly peck into something hot and all consuming. He slid his hand into the mass of curls and held her in place. He remembered the warmth of her lips when she had brushed them against his while lying on the sidewalk. There had been something about her touch and her kiss that did something to him. It was calming and...he didn’t know what, but wanted to feel that sensation again. Needed it at this moment.
At length, Lexia lifted her head. Without another word, she walked out.
Khalil blew out a long breath. His hearing had to come back soon because he didn’t know how much longer he could take this.
Chapter 6
After being cooped up in the hospital for four days, Khalil was glad to get home Saturday afternoon. Well, he would be as soon as his family left. His mother had insisted on being there when he arrived and, although he tried to tell her he could manage on his own, she had cooked enough food to last him for at least a week. Yes, his ribs were still sore—the doctor said they should heal in a few weeks—but he could maneuver around his kitchen. Leaving her in the kitchen, he slowly walked up the stairs leading to his bedroom for some peace, but found his sisters changing the sheets on his bed. Khalil appreciated their enthusiasm, but he just wanted to take some pain medication and lie down.
Both women looked up when he entered the room and rushed toward him. They each took an arm. “Vonnie and Morgan, I can walk by myself.” He gently disentangled himself and made his way to one of the plush chairs positioned in front of the fireplace.
“I love you, but can you please hurry up with my bed, so I can get in it?”
“We’ll be done in a moment.”
“This pain—” He groaned inwardly. That was the absolute wrong thing to say because Siobhan dropped the edge of the sheet in her hand and rushed over to where he sat.
Siobhan’s concerned gaze roamed over his face as she mouthed with exaggerated movement, “Are you in pain? Where’s your medication?”
Khalil grabbed one of her hands and placed a kiss on the back. “Relax, sis. I’ll be fine after I lie down for a while.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Morgan materialized at his side with two pills and glass of water. “Thanks, Morgan.” He swallowed them with a few sips of the cool liquid and handed the glass back. A few minutes later, they finished making the bed. “I appreciate you making the bed. Now go home to your husbands and to my niece. I’m sure Nyla is looking for her mama,” he said to Siobhan. She had given birth to the little girl seven months ago and he loved his role as uncle. The thought of never hearing her sweet laughter again sent a sharp pain through his chest.
He kissed both women and shooed them out. He let out a sigh of relief and he climbed in, glad to finally be in his own bed again. A heartbeat later, he was asleep.
When Khalil woke up two hours later, he felt much better. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat for a minute to get his bearings. In the hospital, he’d had to make do with sponge baths, so a hot shower topped his priority list. He left his room and peered over the rail and into the living room. It was blessedly empty. He retraced his steps to the bedroom, stripped and headed for the bathroom.
The pain and weakness in his sprained wrist proved to be a slight challenge, but he managed to wash up and dry off. He really needed a shave and haircut, but he didn’t have the energy to do that right now. He cinched the towel around his waist, stepped back into the bedroom and froze.
His mother’s eyes widened, he saw her mouth move and she spun around.
Khalil groaned, grabbed a robe from the closet and put it on. “Mom, what are you doing here? I thought you were gone.”
Without turning around, she held up the cell phone, then spoke into it.
He picked up the other one from the nightstand, left, of course, by one of his sisters and read: “Are you decent?”
“Yes, Mom.”
His mother took a quick peek over her shoulder, and then turned around. She folded her arms and frowned. “You shouldn’t be walking around half-naked.”
He lifted a brow. “I live alone, Mom, so it’s usually not a problem. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“You need someone to look after you.”
A vision of what that might entail flashed in his mind and a wave of dread washed over him.
She continued. “What if the phone rings or you need to call someone?”
“It’s the twenty-first century. There’s email, texting... I’ll figure something out. I thought you and Dad were supposed to be leaving for a cruise in a couple of weeks. I’m sure you have lots of shopping and packing to do, and Dad is probably wondering where his dinner is. I’m fine on my own and if I need something, I’ll figure it out. If I can’t, I promise to let someone know.” Khalil crossed the room, placed his arm around her shoulder and steered her out of the room, down the stairs and toward the front door, stopping to pick up her purse from the sofa.
She focused her determined mama expression on him—the one that said she would fight him tooth and nail to get her way. “In case you’ve forgotten, young man, I’m the mother. Your father is perfectly capable of heating leftovers and I don’t need two weeks to pack. You are not fine on your own. You—”
“Yes, Mama, I am fine on my own. I’ll admit that there are a few things I have to learn to do, and I’m sure all of that will be taken care of on my follow-up appointment with the specialist. In the meantime, I’ll deal.”
Tears welled in her eyes and her lip quivered.
Please don’t let her start crying again. She’d done enough of that at the hospital. He released a deep sigh. He was tempted to just let her stay if only to keep her from crying, but the last time she’d camped out at one of their homes, she had rearranged all the furniture and reorganized the kitchen. Malcolm had complained for weeks about not being able to find anything and had to go through the process of changing his furniture back. Khalil liked his place and had everything where he wanted. And he enjoyed the freedom of being able to walk around butt naked if he wanted without an audience.
“You’re stubborn just like your father,” she said.
He wanted to tell her he had gotten it honestly, but said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He took in her attire. She had on a pair of navy sweats and matching sweatshirt. Most people would have on tennis shoes, but not his mother. Her idea of dressing down included a pair of loafers and a scarf around her neck. As always, she wore light makeup and not one strand of her layered salt-and-pepper cropped hair was out of place.
Glaring at him, she snatched her purse from his outstretched hand, slung it over her shoulder and slapped the cell down on his palm.
He placed a kiss on her temple. “I love you, Mom. I’ll send you a text in a couple of hours to let you know I’m okay. How’s that?”
She nodded, stroked a loving hand down his cheek and walked out.
Khalil stood there for a moment before going to get dressed. Contrary to what he’d told his mother, he wasn’t fine. He had no clue how to deal with this. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony in his bedroom. The late March temperatures hovered in the sixties and a crisp breeze blew across his face. He could see the birds circling above, people jogging down the beach and the waves crashing against the shore. He strained his ears, searching for some kind of sound. Nothing. Usually, the sounds of the ocean and waves filled him with a sense of peace, but today he felt lost. How did people live this way? How was he going to live this way? And for how long? Khalil went back inside, locked the door and headed to the kitchen. After fifteen minutes of searching, he decided on a smoothie. He still had no appetite and hadn’t eaten much outside of the coffee cake Lexia had brought two days ago. Her visit had been a total surprise. Had she wanted to come or had Brandon somehow coerced her? He didn’t see her being easily swayed by anyone. It had even taken him some doing just to convince her to sit with him at her own café, humbling for a man who’d never in his life had a problem getting a woman. He had promised her a date, but refused to do it until everything was back to normal. A part of him worried that she might have moved on by then, but a bigger part of him couldn’t bring himself to get involved with a woman while he was like this.
* * *
Monday morning, Lexia loaded the supplies from her car onto a cart and entered the café through the back door.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had all this stuff?” Mr. Willis fussed as he rushed over to take the cart.
“It’s no big deal. I do it all the time.” She rubbed her hands together to warm them. It was barely five in the morning and the March winds were living up to their name.
“Not when I’m here. I thought we cleared that up a long time ago.”
She smiled. “I know, but you were busy with the pastries and I didn’t want to interrupt your flow.”
Mr. Willis stopped near the refrigerator and unloaded the items that needed to stay cold. “Five minutes ain’t gonna hurt nothing. I’ll take care of this.” He gestured toward the counters. “You go on and get started with that coffee cake.”
“Yes, sir!” She gave the former army drill sergeant a crisp salute, turned on her heel and marched over to the counter.
His deep laughter filled the kitchen. “You should’ve joined the army. Your salute is better than half the clowns in my platoon.”
Still s
miling, Lexia got to work. By the time she put the cake into the oven, the fragrant smells of all the food made her stomach growl. She had gone shopping the night before and stopped at a twenty-four-hour grocery store on her way in this morning to pick up the few items not available at the local Costco. As a result, she’d skipped having her typical breakfast of fruit and chamomile tea.
When Sam arrived an hour later, at six, Lexia was on her way to her office to eat an English muffin and drink her tea. “Morning, Sam.”
“Morning, girl,” Sam said around a yawn.
She took a sip of her tea. “Late night?”
A sly smile curved Sam’s lips. “You could say that. Aaron was especially—”
Lexia held up a hand. “Just stop. I don’t need to hear the details. That’s just TMI.”
Sam lifted a brow. “You could be having your own late nights with that fine Khalil Gray if you weren’t so stubborn.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and bit into the English muffin.
“Speaking of Khalil, how is he doing?”
“I haven’t spoken to him or Brandon since my visit on Thursday, so I don’t know. Brandon did mention something about Khalil probably going home sometime over the weekend.” She had given him her number, but he had yet to text her and she tried not to let it bother her. She also didn’t want to keep asking Brandon for updates and was too chicken to ask him for Khalil’s number.
“Well, you said that he’s having a hard time accepting his condition, so I’m not surprised. He probably thinks he’s damaged goods and no woman would want him.”
“But he’s not,” Lexia said, sitting at her desk.
Sam folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. “I know that and you know that, but it’ll take him some time to figure it out. You know as well as I do that men have a lot of pride.”
“And he has some asinine belief that this will somehow make him less of a man.” She recalled him telling her they should wait to go out. At first, she had felt a twinge of disappointment, but later realized he was afraid. And she clearly saw his frustration with having to use the speech-to-text app.
A Touch of Love Page 6