by Amy Andrews
In that moment Trinity felt an affinity with Reid. Caring for an aging grandfather involved the same forward planning as caring for a child and she admired the hell out of him for it. Had there been other family who hadn’t stepped up or had Reid volunteered?
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘What do you reckon? I leave here at eight Monday to Saturday and I’m home by two. You’ll be able to drop Oscar to school each morning and I’ll be home for when you need to pick him up.’
Trinity wasn’t sure about this at all. If she was spending all the school hours with Eddie, she wasn’t out there actually finding a job that could sustain her after she and Oscar left. But, there was no denying, she felt an obligation towards Reid and Eddie.
‘I’ll probably be out for about half an hour in the mornings, maybe longer some days, dropping Oscar at school and getting him settled there. What if Eddie...?’
She didn’t finish the sentence because the list of things that could happen to an eighty-year-old man suffering from early-stage dementia and prone to broken bones seemed too long to contemplate.
‘Pops doesn’t need someone with him every minute of the day. He doesn’t need a carer or a jailer either. I’ll just rest easier knowing someone is around looking out for him. You’d be more like a...companion.’
A companion. It sounded very Victorian.
‘You don’t have to stay home with him looking at four walls or watching the telly all day either, if you don’t want to. Get out of the house with him. Pops loves to go driving. He loves a beach, a museum, a train ride into the city. And he’s great company.’
It didn’t sound like a hardship. She liked Eddie and Oscar adored him but still Trinity hesitated. She’d learned a long time ago not to rely on anyone and some habits were hard to break. ‘Don’t they have agencies for this kind of thing?’
‘Yes, they do. And I will absolutely set about organising something more permanent. But I think it’s going to take a little time because I’ll probably also advertise privately. I want to make sure that whoever I employ is compatible with Pops. I don’t want to lumber him with someone he can’t stand or just anyone an agency might send around.’
Trinity felt a certain pride that he didn’t consider her just anyone.
‘The going rate for a carer is twenty dollars an hour. Six hours a day, six days a week is seven hundred and twenty dollars a week. Cash, of course.’
The colour drained from Trinity’s face and she was grateful she was sitting down. Say what now? She’d never earned that much in a week because she hadn’t been able to work those kinds of hours. ‘But I wouldn’t be a carer,’ she said, her voice faint to her own ears. ‘I’d be a companion.’
‘It’s a comparable job.’ He shrugged, once again waving away her concerns. ‘I can afford it and Pops is worth it. Plus,’ he said with a look on his face that announced he was about to lay down his trump card, ‘it’ll also give you another skill set. Some experience at another job other than bar work or cleaning that’d fit in better with Oscar’s hours. I’d give you a reference too, of course.’
Trinity’s brain buzzed. With that kind of money in two months they could not only be in their own place by Christmas but she could even have a bit of a nest egg built up. Or a buffer anyway. In case something happened—like Oscar ended up back in hospital.
She knew a lot of people would jump at the deal but, there was no way she could take that kind of money from him. Not when he was already doing so much. But maybe he was open to negotiation?
‘Trinity?’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t take that kind of money.’
‘You’ll have earned it fair and square.’
‘No. Those rates don’t take into account the fact that Oscar and I are living in your house. Live-in help always get paid less.’ She knew that from the times she’d managed to score accommodation with a job.
‘That’s totally separate to this.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Not as far as she was concerned. ‘If you’re going to pay me that much then I insist that you take out money for food and board.’
He sighed and shook his head. ‘Trinity.’
He sounded frustrated and a little impatient but she wasn’t going to be swayed. Even a couple of hundred dollars extra on top of being able to save her government support would make a huge difference. Enough to pay a bond on an apartment and have the first couple months’ rent saved.
‘I think two hundred dollars seems fair.’
He snorted. ‘Two hundred dollars is slave labour.’
‘If I had to pay rent and food out of that seven hundred dollars I’d have nothing left over and you know it. Two hundred dollars is more than adequate. Hell, it’s a damn good deal.’
He stroked his beard as he regarded her through narrowed eyes. The rasp of his whiskers was utterly sexual. It was completely inappropriate for Trinity to wonder how they’d feel against her nipples. Or the inside of her thighs.
But she did.
In fact her whole body buzzed traitorously with sensations from an imagined action. A fantasy. The man was clearly not interested. He was looking at her long and hard and her nipples were two stiffened peaks brazenly trumpeting her arousal and he hadn’t dropped his gaze once to check them out even though he had to be able to see them.
Hell, they could probably be seen from the moon.
This was highly inappropriate. The man had taken her in and given her and her son a place of safety out of kindness and a sense of obligation to her for helping Eddie out at the park.
And, if she took up his offer—she’d be crazy if she didn’t—he was about to be her boss.
For God’s sake, he probably had a girlfriend. Or a lover. Or a regular booty call. Or however the hell guys with bikes and tats described their relationships with women. Her nipples had no business flirting with him.
She folded her arms.
‘Five hundred,’ he said, finally.
Trinity swallowed. ‘Three hundred.’ God, three hundred would be a godsend.
‘Four.’
Four hundred dollars? Cash. Trinity’s head spun. That on top of her government support would be beyond her wildest dreams. Four hundred dollars every week.
Maybe her stars really were changing. Maybe she could finally take a breath?
‘Done,’ she said, straining her vocal cords to keep her voice strong and matter-of-fact.
He held out his hand. Trinity hesitated for a moment before she took it, her nipples still two pebbles inside her bra.
Maybe not touching him at all was a good policy.
‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he said with a smile as they slowly shook.
Trinity faked a smile and tried not to think about things that were hard.
On her. And the things that could get hard, on him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
REID WATCHED CHASE FROST flirt with Trinity through the window of his office that looked out over the large, open therapy room. He’d been flirting with her since she’d arrived with Pops almost an hour ago instead of working out on the weight machines to build up the strength in his thigh. There was a lot of gym equipment they used in therapy specifically to strengthen and tone muscles.
She was sitting on the chairs that lined the wall nearest the door and Chase was sprawled in the chair next to her, his prosthesis on full display. Reid gave a mental eye roll. The above-knee amputee never let the minor matter of a missing leg dent his game with the ladies. If anything he played on it.
Not that Reid blamed him. Hell, he kind of admired him for it. The conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan had maimed many a good soldier both physically and mentally. Chase, however, aside from the distress of the acute phase, had been philosophical about his injury despite the numerous socket issues he’d had with his prosthesis and problems with phantom
limb pains. Reid could hardly judge him for using whatever he could to his advantage.
The man had lost his leg to an IED—he’d paid a high price for his service and if that was what some chicks dug, then more power to him.
He just wished that, today, it hadn’t been Trinity in his sights.
She’d been wary at first, keeping that polite distance she kept around him, but she’d relaxed quickly and was actually laughing now.
‘The surgeon did a good job, Doc.’
Reid dragged his attention back to Brett, the latest casualty to have returned from the conflict in the Middle East. He’d lost his foot from just above the ankle and, now he was in the recovery phase, had been sent to Allura for outpatient prosthetics and rehab.
‘A damn good job,’ Reid agreed as he inspected the stump, ‘considering how mangled it was.’ He’d seen the pictures.
Reid knew, because he’d spent eight years of his life as a combat surgeon, the importance of what was left when the decision was made to amputate. There was nothing that could be done for the lost limb but forming a good stump was paramount for prosthetics and some surgeons were better than others.
He’d been one of the best.
But it also depended on the circumstances and where the patient was. Not all amputations happened in a fully prepped surgical tent. Some happened in the field through necessity and that was guaranteed to have a poorer outcome. Not just for life but for limb as well.
‘I don’t remember, Doc. Don’t remember any of it. I think I was in so much shock I didn’t feel the pain.’
‘Well, thank God for that,’ Reid mused. ‘Because getting blown up usually hurts like hell.’
‘So Chase tells me.’ Brett grinned, remarkably chipper for a young guy who’d suffered a significant injury that would have far-reaching consequences.
He was already talking about competing in the Invictus Games for disabled veterans but Reid suspected it hadn’t fully hit him yet. A bit like the pain from his injury. The road to recovery wasn’t easy for anyone and Brett was probably going to find that the pain would come back to bite him on the ass when he least suspected it.
Still, that was why Reid was here. Not just for the physical needs of his patients but for the emotional ones as well. Getting on top of any depression, referring on to the right people was essential. Allura was a small, private veterans’ hospital but it provided a full service and Reid believed in taking care of military personnel’s mental health as well as their stumps and other rehab needs.
It was different from what Reid had spent the previous eight years of his life doing. It was more GP than combat surgeon. In fact, gloves deep in someone’s gut, torn apart from shrapnel, or sawing off someone’s leg, he’d never seen himself in the rehab sector.
Not in a million years.
But, with his plans to travel around Australia abruptly halted, he’d needed to do something while stuck in suburbia and he hadn’t wanted to go back into surgery. Then he’d spotted this job advertised and, even though he wasn’t specifically qualified for it, the hospital had been trying to fill the position for months.
They probably would have taken a trained monkey as long as it had a medical degree.
In a lot of ways he was overqualified but, when it was all boiled down, he was actually perfect for the job. An ex-military combat surgeon with an exceptional understanding of the injuries that he saw every day. And not just of the mechanics of blast injuries but the mindset of someone who had been in the thick of active combat; all made him uniquely qualified.
And it was a good fit for this stage of his life.
‘Okay. Head out to Kathy. She’ll start the preliminary measurements for your prosthetic.’
Reid followed Brett out, lounging in his doorway, shoulder propped against the frame, ostensibly watching Mario, Allura’s head physio, with his grandfather. Mario was leading Pops through his therapy and Reid could tell that his grandfather was getting stronger with each session.
But Trinity laughed again at something Chase was saying and Reid’s gaze strayed. He hadn’t heard her laugh that much in five whole days. And it bugged him. It was none of his damn business but it still bugged him.
Chase had consistently crashed and burned with Kathy and every other female on staff at the rehab clinic. Not because he wasn’t charming and good-looking, but because he was a patient and a player. One of those guys who had a fluid definition of fidelity. So, Trinity was new territory for him.
And, with her smiling at him and actually looking her twenty-four years for a change, he was flirting up a storm.
Smug bastard.
Did she think that because Chase had one leg, he was harmless? He hoped not. According to Chase, he’d got laid more times with one leg than he ever had with two.
Reid probably should warn her about Chase but he knew she could take care of herself. Maybe he should warn Chase about Trinity...
Reid would have given anything to have seen her moves in the park last week. Oscar was still talking about it despite her trying to shush him.
‘Okay, Eddie, you’re done,’ Mario announced, reaching down a hand to help Pops up from the weight machine he’d been working on.
Reid ambled over, walking around the parallel bars where Steve, another physio, was putting John, a homeless Vietnam veteran, through his paces with his first ever prosthetic leg. Trinity had also made her way over, followed closely by Chase.
‘Ready to go?’ she asked, smiling at Eddie.
‘Sure am.’
‘You’re doing well, Pops,’ Reid said.
‘Definitely,’ Mario reiterated.
‘You back on Thursday, Eddie?’ Chase asked.
Eddie glanced at Mario, who nodded and said, ‘Yep. We’ll keep you going twice a week on the weight work. It’ll help strengthen all your bones.’
Chase turned flirty eyes on Trinity and smiled at her. ‘So that means you’ll be back too.’
‘Looks like it.’
She returned the smile but it gave Reid some measure of satisfaction that there was nothing flirtatious in the way she looked at Chase. Her demeanour was friendly, not flirty.
Eddie raised his hand and waved at John and at Shaun, who was currently struggling up a short set of wooden steps with his new prosthesis, under the supervision of another physio.
‘See you later,’ he called. They both acknowledged him before turning back to their tasks.
Chase held out his hand and Eddie shook it. ‘Next time, man,’ Chase said. Then he turned his gaze on Trinity and put on his best hey, baby voice. ‘I hope to see you next time too.’
Trinity nodded. ‘That would be nice.’
Reid suppressed a smile at her bland response. If Chase was disappointed in nice he didn’t show it as Reid walked his grandfather and Trinity to the door.
‘I’ll see you at home this arvo, Pops,’ he said before turning to Trinity. ‘Thanks again for this. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.’
Her hair had been scraped back into her usual low ponytail at her nape, her fringe feathering her forehead. She wasn’t wearing any make-up. She never wore it. Not that he thought she needed it or that women should wear it, he just didn’t know any woman who didn’t apply a little something before leaving the house.
He supposed make-up was a luxury for a woman who didn’t have a house to leave.
‘It’s my job,’ she dismissed. ‘You pay me to do it.’ But there was no mistaking the blush that bloomed across her cheekbones.
Interesting...who needed make-up when flushed cheeks were so damn alluring?
‘I know. But it’s still appreciated.’
She nodded awkwardly. ‘C’mon, Eddie, let’s go home,’ she said, slipping her hand under his elbow and guiding him out of the clinic.
A low wo
lf whistle from behind dragged Reid back into the room. He turned to find Chase grinning at him. ‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one, hiring Eddie Little Miss Sweet Knees as a companion.’
‘Little Miss Sweet Knees?’
He nodded. ‘I think I’m in there.’
‘Oh, please,’ Kathy chimed in. ‘You think you’re in with any woman who doesn’t throw their drink over you.’
‘Kathy—’ Chase grabbed his chest and faked a hurt expression ‘—I’m a one-legged man with a fragile ego. You wound me.’
‘Right,’ she snorted. ‘An IED straight to your ego wouldn’t wound you.’
Chase threw his head back and laughed. A lot of people outside these walls might have been horrified by Kathy’s seemingly insensitive dig. But this was a hard-core environment. Learning to walk again with a prosthesis was hard-core stuff and sometimes patients had to be goaded and cajoled into doing it.
Physical therapy wasn’t for wimps. Their military training helped but there was still a lot of swearing and sometimes even tears. The physical therapy staff were at the coalface—they were trained to know when to push and when to back off and it wasn’t uncommon for them to cop some frustrated verbal abuse.
Learning how to give as good as they got was essential.
‘I’m thinking I might ask her out when I see her on Thursday,’ Chase said, returning his attention to Reid. ‘I...won’t be stepping on any toes?’
‘Since when do you come here on Thursday?’
‘Since today.’ Chase grinned. ‘Well?’
‘She doesn’t belong to me,’ Reid grouched. ‘She’s allowed to see whoever she wants to see.’
Chase’s forehead rose at Reid’s gruff reply. ‘Are you sure about that, man?’ he teased. ‘You seem kinda pissed off.’
‘Your face pisses me off,’ Reid deadpanned. Smack talk, the language of the military.
‘Aw, Kathy,’ Chase said, turning to appeal to the woman who was measuring Brett’s stump. ‘Help me out here?’