by Anna Argent
***
Between Declan's flirting with the woman Nate wished was his, Mom's meddling, and Hanna's irrational belief that she should go back to doing the thing that hurt her in the first place, Nate was at the end of his patience.
He took one step toward the door before Declan's voice caught him. "Are you sure you still want her? Because you know I have a thing for feisty chicks, and from the looks of things, you're having trouble sealing the deal with little Miss Curvy Bottom."
Nate ground his teeth together to keep from shouting at the man he loved like a brother. "Back off. Stay backed off. And don't ever talk about her ass again."
"Suit yourself," said Declan with heavy resignation. "You know where to find me if you decide that feisty is too much trouble for you."
Nate walked out before he said something he regretted.
He found Hanna two blocks away, walking at a punishing pace toward the edge of town. It would have taken her nearly two hours to reach the Yellow Rose, but from the way it looked, she was determined to get there on foot.
Nate pulled his truck over and rolled down the window. "Get in, Hanna."
"I'm fine, thanks."
"It's ninety degrees in the shade and you don't have any water."
"It's not that long a walk. I won't die." She kept right on going, forcing him to pace her.
"You're being silly. It's hot. You've been through a trauma today and bled enough that you probably shouldn't be exerting yourself. Just get in. Please?"
Her steps slowed, then stopped. She turned toward him. "Promise me you won't try to stop me from working."
He could have said any number of things to end this argument. He could have told her that it was his property and if she stepped foot on it, he'd have her arrested for trespassing. He could have told her that his insurance would go through the roof if he was found letting an injured worker risk further injury on the same day as her accident. He could have even told her that he didn't want or need her help, and that if she wanted a job, she could find one elsewhere.
But he said none of those things. The simple fact was he couldn't stand the idea of letting her go on her way and leave him not knowing her fate. She'd hurt herself helping him, and he wasn't going to abandon her when she couldn't even change the damn bandage herself.
"I promise," he said. "But you have to do something less strenuous and dirty. No more cleaning out trash and construction debris."
She took a step toward him and propped her arms on the open window frame. He noticed the slight wince she hid as soon as it appeared.
He really did need to find her something to do that wasn't going to rip out all his mom's tidy stitches.
"What do you have in mind?" Hanna asked.
"Paperwork?"
She shook her head. "I'm no good at it. And I'd rather take a beating than sit at a desk all day."
He almost asked her if her new job wouldn't be just that, but held his tongue.
"Okay. What about the mantle?"
"What about it?"
"You said woodwork was your specialty. Show me your stuff."
She stared at him for several seconds as if debating. Finally, she said, "I'm going need more paint stripper."
He nodded. "We'll stop by the hardware store on the way back." And after that, he'd convince her to get something to eat with him. It was well past lunch, and they both needed to keep their strength up—her to heal and him to find the patience to deal with a stubborn woman.
"It's a deal, then," she said. "But if you think one little booboo is going to keep me from pulling my weight, you're going to find out just how wrong a man can be."
Chapter Eighteen
Hanna fell asleep in Nate's truck on the drive back from town.
So much for her speech about being fine and pulling her own weight. She didn't even wake up until the fireflies started winking in the trees.
Nate was nowhere to be seen. She'd apparently slept through him turning off the truck, getting out, shutting the door. They'd left town around three, which meant she'd been dozing for a few hours.
He'd rolled down the windows and parked in the shade so she wouldn't bake in the heat. As it was, she'd sweat all over his fancy leather seats—nice addition to the blood and rain water.
Her neck ached where it had lolled steeply to one side, her shoulder burned where she'd been laying on it—the meds Nate had forced on her at lunch had definitely worn off—and she had to pee.
She eased down from the truck and made her way a bit unsteadily across the weedy front lawn of the Yellow Rose. She figured that Nate would be inside the old Victorian, finishing what she'd failed to do, but when she entered the little garage apartment, she found him there instead.
He stood at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand while looking at his phone with the other.
The smell of something garlicky and glorious hit her head-on. Her stomach woke up instantly and growled for a giant portion of whatever it was he was making.
He turned his head as she came through the front door. An amused smile warmed his face and crinkled the corners of his sexy green eyes.
"What are you grinning at?" she asked, hoping he'd let her in on what was so funny.
"Your hair is telling jokes. I was simply appreciating its sense of humor."
A flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks as she slipped past him into the little bathroom. Sure enough, her hair was a complete wreck, sticking up in humps where her sweat had glued it to her head. The twisted knot she wore her hair in most of the time to keep it out of her way had sprouted tentacles, and one spiky horn sticking straight out of the top.
She groaned at the sight, peed, then washed up and did what she could to repair the damage. She feared that nothing but a shower and a full shampoo was going to rid her hair of its funny bone, but the idea of doing the job made her wound burn.
Until now, she hadn't really thought through how she was going to manage dealing with her injury and herself. She wasn't supposed to get the stitches wet, which was going to make bathing difficult, and washing her hair impossible. Unless she had someone tape some plastic over the bandage—something she wasn't going to be able to do on her own. Sure, she could take a bird bath, but as dirty and sweaty as she got working, she knew she'd never get clean enough. Especially her hair.
Hanna let her head fall, giving into the need for a momentary pity party.
She'd been fine before Rex broke down. Sure, she'd been mostly broke and homeless, but she was fixing her problems on her own. Independent. Making good choices for once.
And now here she was, unable to perform even the most basic functions—keeping herself clean and healthy—without help.
She'd thought she'd been fine, but the truth was she'd always been only one little mishap away from catastrophe.
As soon as that thought ran its course, she lifted her head and stared at herself in the mirror. "You're fine. It's just a little cut. Nothing is broken but Rex, and he's on the mend. Just another day or two and everything will be back to where it was before. New steady job, new happy life, new strong you."
The pep talk helped set her natural optimist free, but there was still a small part of her that wondered how she was going to make all these grand plans work. Wanting them was one thing. Making them happen was another.
"Are you okay in there?" she heard Nate call from the other side of the door.
Had he heard her talking to herself? She hoped not. Her pep talks were for her ears only.
She plastered a smile on her face so bright, she could feel her teeth gleaming. When she opened the door, he was only inches away.
"I'm fine. Smells like you made dinner."
"There wasn't a lot to work with here, but I managed some spaghetti with sauce out of a jar."
"It never smells like that when I make jarred sauce."
"I added a few things to jazz it up."
He dished up two plates and set them on the tiny round table. Beside hers, set two pain pills and on
e of her antibiotics. "You should take it with food."
She looked at the pills and had to fight off the sting of tears.
How long had it been since someone had cared enough about her to do something like this for her? He'd spent his entire day taking care of her, and instead of being pissy that his schedule had been interrupted, he'd made her dinner.
What kind of man did that?
The kind of man who was way too good for a girl like Hanna.
She'd been so worried about making bad choices in men that it hadn't occurred to her until today that she was the bad choice in this relationship.
She couldn't do to him what Jack had done to her—bringing her down when she had finally gotten her little business off the ground. It wasn't that she was going to steal from Nate or let down his customers, but she was sure that dragging him off of a job with a tight deadline was almost as bad.
And who knew what other problems she could cause him if he was focused on her instead of his work?
She blinked hard and fast to clear her vision. "Thank you. For everything. You've really gone above and beyond today."
He twirled some noodles around his fork. "That's just what you do when someone gets hurt. Besides, you got hurt on my property, doing a job for me, so if I just walked away, it would make me a total asshole."
She couldn't imagine him being that—not now that she knew him better.
"I don't blame you. It was my clumsiness that got me in this mess. I've been around construction sites enough to know how to behave. It was just an unfortunate combination of fatigue and bad luck."
"You seemed exhausted. That's why I didn't wake you when we got here. I figured sleep was the best medicine."
"I'll put in a few hours tonight to make up for what I missed today."
"Like hell you will. The office is closed for the rest of the night. You're going to eat, then sleep."
She thought about arguing, but decided there was no point. Let him think what he liked. She'd do what she wanted once he left.
He must have seen her thoughts on her face, because he said, "And if you think you're going to sneak out and work while I'm gone tonight, then think again. I'm planting my ass right here in case you need me tonight."
"You act like I had a leg amputated. It's not that big of a deal."
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face. "Can you please just let me help you?"
"I don't want pity."
"Fine. No pity here. But I do feel guilty that you got hurt on the job. If I'd been there to help you, maybe it wouldn't have happened. All I'm asking is for you to let me assuage my guilt a little by making things easier on you. Okay?"
When he said it like that, she couldn't say no. He was a good guy trying to do right by her. If it eased his guilt to help her, then she'd let him.
Besides, she really did need help, if she was being completely honest with herself.
"Okay. I could use a shower. Can you tape some plastic over my bandage or something?"
"Absolutely." He gave her a smile so bright she knew this moment would be etched into her mind forever. His white teeth shining, his pale green eyes crinkled at the corners, one side of his mouth hitched up a fraction higher than the other.
He was so handsome it made her heart break just to look at him, because she knew he'd never be hers. Women like her might gain the attraction of good men like Nate, but they'd never keep it for long. If she wanted to get out of this town with what was left of her heart intact, she needed to remember that.
Chapter Nineteen
Nate felt victorious, like a knight winning the hand of the fair maiden.
Hanna was letting him stay, letting him help. It was all he'd wanted from her, and yet now that he had it, he found he wanted more.
So much more.
They finished eating, and then cleaned up together like they'd been doing so for years. It was comfortable, almost fun, working beside her. She chatted about some of the projects she'd done over the past couple of years, and he told her more about his family and the little town they called home.
He covered her bandage with tape and plastic so she could shower without wetting her stitches. She'd been mostly dressed at the time, baring only the skin necessary to do the job, but he still felt the intimacy of the act like a fire in his chest.
He wanted her. Too much. If she'd given him even the smallest sign that she wanted him back, he would have fucked her right then and there.
But she didn't give him a sign, and his hands were still shaking with lust when she came out of the shower, her hair twisted in a lopsided towel that favored her injured side.
"I don't have a bathrobe," she told him self-consciously. "Hope you don't mind that I helped myself to what was in the closet." She'd found an oversized men's button-up shirt that had belonged to the previous tenant. It fell to her knees and covered her completely, but he still fantasized about what lay beneath.
Did she have on panties? He could tell by the stiff outline of her nipples that she wore no bra. Maybe that shirt was all she had on.
His palms tingled with the need to find out, but he held his ground and stayed planted in the ugly brown plaid chair in the tiny living space.
This apartment was old and shabby, though he could tell she'd taken some time to wipe away the dust and cobwebs. He would have preferred to take her to his home where everything was clean and in good condition, but he didn't want another battle of wills. She was already exhausted enough as it was.
"Can I help with the towel?" he asked, certain that lifting her arms to wash her hair had to have hurt enough already. "It looks like it's about to pull your hair out."
"Yeah. Thanks. I never realized just how much hair I had until I could lift only one arm up high enough to wash it."
"I would have helped," he said as he crossed the room and unwound the damp towel.
She gave him a wry grin. "If you'd been in that shower with me, I don't think either one of us would have been thinking about my hair."
"I can't argue that. Probably a good thing I stayed out here."
She stared at him a bit longer. Her pale gray gaze slid over his face, then down across his torso. Her tone was distracted, like she was daydreaming. "Yeah. Probably so."
Her wet hair fell over her uninjured shoulder. It was darker now, the water hiding the lighter golden tones.
She was all pink and warm from her shower, and the rosy hue tricked his mind into thinking she was flushed for a different reason entirely. Scrubbed clean and dressed down, she was an intoxicating combination of sultry and innocent—casually sexy in a way he doubted she even realized.
Her slender fingers went to the top button of the oversized shirt she wore. She flicked the plastic dick free, revealing another two inches of smooth, hot flesh.
Everything in Nate seized up. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. All he could do was stare at the slow revelation of Hanna's perfect skin as she bared herself to him.
Then the innocent question came, jarring him from his fantasies where she stripped naked and begged him to fuck her.
"Will you take the plastic off?" she asked as she slid the cotton from her shoulder and turned around to give him access to her wound.
Nate jerked himself back to reality. She wasn't stripping for him. She wasn't going to ask him to fuck her. All she needed was his help with a task she couldn't do herself.
His erection hadn't yet caught up to the shift from lover to caretaker. It pounded against his fly, demanding release—both from the clothing that contained it, and from the growing pressure swelling in his balls.
He was going to have to find a private moment to get himself off. If he didn't, his brain wouldn't be able to function past any level that didn't involve sex. She needed him to take care of her without taking her, and that meant taking care of himself too.
A little quality time with his fist was the plan, then. As soon as he could manage.
And when he did, there wasn't a single do
ubt in his mind that she would be the one he thought about as he stroked himself. Her sweet face and curvy body would be the star of his private fantasies, both tonight as well as many others to come, no doubt.
She peeled the shirt down to reveal the thin straps of a camisole. The revelation that she wasn't naked beneath the cotton eased some of the lust pounding through his veins. His head cleared slightly, and he was able to focus on the task at hand.
Hanna held the front of the shirt tight over her breasts, giving the fabric room enough to sag in back. Nate carefully peeled away the tape holding the plastic, doing his best not to cause her any more pain.
Washing her hair must have strained the stitches enough that she'd started to bleed again, because small freckles of red showed through the pristine white gauze.
"I need to change the bandage," he told her. "Hang on."
He fetched the supplies he needed and made quick work of covering the cut with a clean pad of gauze. "The stitches have held, but you need to try not to lift your arm over your head again. It made you bleed a little."
She let out a faint sigh of frustration, but nodded. "I'll be more careful."
He finished his task and pulled the spaghetti strap and cotton shirt back over her shoulder to cover the temptation her skin presented.
She turned to face him. "Thank you. I couldn't have done that without help."
Her words filled his chest with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. He felt stronger, taller. In this moment, there was nothing he wouldn't have done for this woman, no matter the task. She could have asked him for anything in his power to give, and it would have been hers, just to hear her thank him again.
Allowing anyone that kind of power over him was both dangerous and foolish, but there was nothing he could do. Hanna bewitched him. It was up to her now to use her powers for good.
She went up on her tiptoes and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to go to bed now. There's no need for you to stay."
He wasn't going to argue with her. He was sleeping here, on the ugly plaid couch that matched the ugly plaid chair. If she needed him in the night, he'd be close by, because if he wasn't, he knew he wouldn't sleep at all.