"If there was a way to screw it up . . . I certainly did it." Travis shook his head. "By the time I could finally admit what she meant to me, I'd pretty much blown it. MaryJo wanted to break up. She said I probably couldn't change."
Stunned, Curt stared at him. He and MaryJo were the best couple he knew. They were . . . a unit. A whole. Two people so in sync, he couldn't imagine a time when they weren't. "Change what?"
His brother suddenly seemed unduly interested in the doorframe. "You know—the whole 'I'm an island—I don't need anyone' thing."
Curt finally understood. His brother had transformed since meeting his wife. He'd almost forgotten what Trav had been like before MaryJo. Isolated. Serious. Alone and content to be that way. Workaholic. A different woman every week—but never anyone important. Basically . . . a great deal like him—minus the soul-numbing guilt. "So, what happened?"
"I had to earn my way back," he admitted, his voice gruff. "And by then—I absolutely knew I couldn't afford to lose."
"What'd you do?"
"I didn't lose." His smirk returning, his brother headed toward the kitchen. "I busted my ass. It helped that she found me irresistible."
"Lucky for you she has such poor taste." Grinning, Curt was relieved to shake off the serious mood. "She's the best thing about you . . . well—and your kids, too."
"No argument there." His brother paused in the doorway. "How about I make you some breakfast before you zone out and start drooling again?"
Chapter 6
"Are you even listening to me?" Felix raised the mug to his mouth, hiding a smile.
Shannon blinked at him, weary. Stupefied . . . as though sleep were a distant memory. "I'm sorry. What was that? Something about the truck needing new tires?"
"Which truck?"
"I—is it fourteen? Or fifteen?"
"I'll take care of it." His kind eyes flashed with humor. "Are you getting any sleep over there?"
"It's hard-" Her train of thought was interrupted by an ear-splitting yawn. Damn—she was so tired. And she'd had so many plans for this week. The reception area make-over. The new contracts she needed to revise and print for Curt's review. She'd planned to refinish a few of the rickety chairs, too. Before Curtis returned and told her not to bother. Instead, she was a sleep-deprived zombie. "Once his pain lessens, I can stretch out the doses to five or six hours. Then, I'll finally get some sleep."
"When will that be?" Felix walked to the coffee station, pouring himself a refill. Heck, she needed some, too. But not a cup. A pot—at triple strength.
"Probably three more days before he can better handle the pain."
"Where's his family?" Felix' warm, brown eyes reflected concern. "His brother-"
She shook her head. "They have three kids. And they're both taking shifts during the day." Standing, she stretched, in the vain hope it might wake her up a bit. "It was either strangers or me—and I'm qualified."
"That family can easily afford a nurse."
She'd heard about Travis Lockwood. He owned a software company worth millions. "I think it's more about getting someone in they can trust."
Felix eyed her with sudden understanding. "Don't let him exhaust you."
"Except for getting up to give him meds, it's really just sleeping," she insisted. Or trying to sleep. Thirty minutes before the alarm, she was usually awake in anticipation. And half an hour after Curt was settled, she was usually tossing and turning, trying to find her way back to sleep. But her overactive brain usually didn't cooperate.
"Make sure that's all it is."
"What are you talking about?" The scent of coffee was too good to resist. Fumbling for her mug, she crossed the room to where he stood.
She was aware of him studying her as she splashed in some cream. "Curt's not the right guy for someone like you."
There was no mistaking his meaning. Her face heating, she suddenly wished she were anywhere but two feet from Felix, with his fatherly air and all-knowing eyes. "It's not like that," she lied. Because Curt didn't even think of her that way. She was simply the means to an end. Pills and ice and applesauce during the night. Not that he wasn't appreciative-
"I love Curt like a son." He methodically stirred his cup. "But—he's been through a great deal in his life. He made a terrible mistake when he was a kid-"
"The accident-"
"Yeah, but there's a whole lot more to that story and I'm not the one who should be telling it." Tapping the spoon on the rim of his mug, he laid it carefully on the saucer.
"I know some of it." Biting her lip, Shannon was supremely conscious of her words. "I know he was seriously injured. This knee surgery is from damage then, right?"
He shook his head. "You need to hear the rest from him . . . and he rarely talks about it, so I wouldn't expect much there."
"Seriously, Felix, I'm just helping out for a couple weeks. I studied to be a nurse," she felt compelled to explain. "Curt's family had no idea how debilitating this surgery was going to be because he kept it from them. Once they realized they needed someone-"
"You keep telling yourself that, Sugar." He smiled. "It's none of my business."
"Felix-"
Shifting from one foot to the other, he sighed. "Look—I like you. You're a hard worker. You care about this place. I'm telling you what I'd tell my own daughter."
She smiled. "Go ahead," she urged. "I can take it."
"Just don't expect Curt to change much. He's paid for his mistake, but—I'm here to tell you, you can't experience all he has . . . and recover from it."
Recover. From being responsible for someone's death. Her grandmother's death. Warmed by his concern, she felt the urge to set him straight. "You mean he won't ever be more charming and friendly than he's been so far?"
That elicited a chuckle. "He's a great guy under all the seriousness. But—he's a loner. I've known him a long time. He won't get any better than what he already is." Scratching the salt and pepper hair, he drifted toward the door, his signal that he'd rested long enough and probably talked too much.
"Thanks for the pep talk, Felix. But, it's only a few more days. Then I'm back to sleeping in my own bed and working days." And packing up at her sister's apartment. Finally—finally moving into her own place. At long last, her life had turned the corner. After a long spell of bad decisions, terrible choices in men and looming financial disaster, she was nearing the top of the hole she'd dug herself. Nothing and no one would ruin her plans. The cute, little one bedroom she'd chosen in nearby Watertown . . . with high ceilings, a cozy window seat and a non-working fireplace awaited.
It was time. To end her desire for revenge. And the equally frustrating infatuation with her closed-off boss. Each one an exercise in futility. What it all boiled down to? She wasn't someone who could hurt another person out of spite. The idea of retribution had nurtured her through her grief. It had allowed a powerless, overwhelmed teenager feel empowered. For that, she was thankful.
Now that she was thinking clearly, despite her groggy state, Shannon was also grateful her infatuation was completely one-sided. Aside from being his night nurse, Curt didn't act as though she existed. Which was clearly in her best interests.
Felix was right. Curtis was damaged. She'd been immature to imagine he'd be unaffected by Janey's death. He lived with guilt every day. And he would continue to do so. Shannon didn't need to hurt him, when he so clearly believed in hurting himself. Similar to Curt, she'd wasted too many years dwelling on the past. But, seeing the way he walled himself off only made her realize how she didn't want to live her life. She wanted joy. Simple pleasures. Eventually, she wanted someone to share it with.
Shannon wanted a life without constant regret over her past failures. That life clearly didn't include Curt in any way other than as a paycheck. Wanting more would be to risk plummeting back down that slippery, black hole. She wouldn't wish the climb back up on anyone. Five or six more nights before Curtis could manage by himself. Then, she could fade into the background where she bel
onged.
Not a bad gig when she thought about it. While living her new and improved life, she'd have a great day job she liked—and was pretty good at. Surrounded by kind-hearted guys who worked hard. A dangerously hot boss she could safely admire from afar—like a glowing campfire. Delicious heat from a distance, but the risk of a painful burn if she dared to wander too close. That knowledge should keep the sparks at bay.
THREE DAYS LATER, MARYJO Lockwood greeted her at the door, finger to her lips when Shannon would have knocked. Pantomiming sleep, the leggy brunette ushered her into the living room. Comfortably dressed in yoga pants and a flannel shirt, her shiny, black hair pulled back in a ponytail, Travis' wife appeared relaxed and carefree. How did she manage to look that great after three kids?
"He's just like one of my kids . . . they look so innocent when they're sleeping," she whispered. "But, you know they're going to drive you crazy once they wake up."
Propped up on the couch, Curtis was slouched against the pillows, eyes closed, his breathing even. His five o'clock shadow a sexy, golden stubble. God, he looked so good. Her heart beating a little faster, Shannon wrestled her gaze from her sleeping boss. MaryJo signaled her to the kitchen. Grateful to have something else to focus on, she followed, reminding herself of the promise she'd made three days earlier. About her life. About her desire to be happy. About not getting derailed again by someone who could hurt her.
"How was your day?" Curt's sister-in-law rinsed out a coffee cup and a few glasses before placing them in the dishwasher.
"It was great," she admitted, relieved to shove him from her head. "Four Seasons is busy. We've had calls on three jobs Curtis bid before he left." She set her briefcase on the farm table. "I brought the contracts with me for him to review tonight if he feels up to it."
MaryJo smiled. "Oh—he'll be up for it. He's starting to get feisty. Travis said he was giving him a hard time earlier today."
Shannon frowned. "About what? Is he in pain?"
The long ponytail swung when she shook her head. "Nah—he's just tired of being in the same place. He made Travis help him take a walk through the house for a change of scenery."
"How'd he do?" She hoped they'd been careful. Hoped he hadn't put any weight-
"Pretty well," MaryJo reassured, disrupting her thoughts. "Trav said it exhausted him. Took him twenty minutes to make one loop through the house. He thinks he got a little woozy, not that Curt would admit to it." Concern flared in her expressive eyes. "Will you be able to manage him? Getting him back to bed, I mean."
"We'll take it slow." He'd be okay. Mentally planning out the shortest route, she would have him stop in the bathroom on the way.
"I could always send Travis back later-"
Shannon smiled at the sudden flare of concern in warm, brown eyes. "I'll plan the meds around his trek back to bed. He won't be loopy for the trip, but he'll need them by the time he gets there."
"Trav and I have been discussing this, and we'd like to invite you to dinner, maybe next weekend?" Her expressive eyes held a question. "You've done so much for us."
"MaryJo, that's very kind, but not necessary." Over the past ten days, she'd started thinking of Curt's sister-in-law as a friend. But, it was a closeness borne of the situation. And Curtis might not appreciate her crossing that line. The Lockwoods seemed like great people, but they were leagues away from what she was familiar with.
"You have to come," she insisted. "As soon as Curt is finally able to travel, I want to celebrate. We'll have a barbecue. We've only got another month before it gets too cold. We want you there, too."
Shannon smiled. "He'll love that. I know he's missed seeing the kids. He talks about them so much, I feel I already know them." Reluctant to snuff out MaryJo's enthusiasm, she let it rest. There was plenty of time to discuss it with Curtis—or to come up with an excuse why she couldn't make it. Curt was so private . . . he might feel uncomfortable about her meddling in his family. Especially when she would soon revert back to being the hired help.
"He's a great uncle. Hannah misses him so much, but I'd be terrified to bring her for a visit."
"Why?"
MaryJo grinned. "She'd leap on him in a heartbeat, crutches and all. Curt wouldn't stand a chance." Scooping up her bag, she spent another minute locating her phone. "Don't be surprised if he's a little cranky tonight. I think all the attention is getting to him."
"That's understandable. He probably feels like he's under a microscope. Even when he's doped up, he's fully aware of his pain—and everyone hovering over him." Being a patient was difficult. It was rare to find someone who liked being sick or dependent on others. "I've got a little surprise for dinner if he feels up to it."
A smile playing around her lips, MaryJo paused in her trek through the house. "What are you planning?"
"Another baby step," she answered. "If he feels like a stretch, I was going to try to serve dinner on the deck. It would only require about twenty steps. He can eat and rest in a deck chair before I move him back inside for the night."
Her eyes lit up. "Oh—why didn't I think of that? It was so beautiful today." She frowned. "Truthfully though, I'm sort of afraid to do anything that could hurt him."
"Trust me, you're not the only one." She crossed her fingers. "Hopefully, he'll feel up to it. Sometimes the change of scenery can be empowering."
MaryJo paused at the door. Surprising her, she reached for her fingers, giving them a squeeze. "Thank you so much, Shannon. You don't know how grateful we are to have you."
Shocked by her frank words, her cheeks heated. "I—I'm happy to do it-"
"Now, I've embarrassed you. I didn't mean to." Her smile impish, MaryJo released her hands. "See you tomorrow."
THE NEXT HOUR FLEW as she moved stealthily through the house. Prepping their simple dinner, she planned for a number of locations. If Curt was content on the couch, she could move the card table from his bedroom. If he wanted to try for the deck, there was a table and umbrella there, waiting. Getting outside would likely improve his mood, but only he knew whether he was up for the challenge. It was still only nine days out from his surgery, and everyone healed differently.
"MaryJo?"
His sleepy voice dispelled her thoughts. Moving through the kitchen, she poked her head around the corner. "Hey, Curt. It's me. MaryJo's gone for the night."
Even groggy, the man still managed to look sexy. His expression bewildered, he ran a hand through his hair. "Hi, Shannon. What time is it?"
"It's six. I got here about an hour ago, but you were sleeping."
"That's all I seem to do," he muttered.
Moving tentatively into the room, she tried to gauge his mood. "I've got dinner ready when you're hungry. I was thinking—if you feel up to it . . ." Uncertainty swamping her, she hesitated. What if he was too weak? It would make him feel worse if he tried and failed.
Though resigned, his expression still held a question mark. "Yeah?"
"We don't have to try it," she blurted. "It's probably too soon."
"Anything different will likely get my vote."
She threw caution to the wind. "It's so beautiful out tonight . . . I thought we could try to eat out on your deck." She swallowed around her sudden nerves. "If—you feel like you could make it that far."
Surprise, followed by hope flashed over his features. "That would be amazing."
Encouraged by his eagerness, she nodded. "Okay, so when you're ready—we'll get you up and I'll help you maneuver out there. I've got a chair all set for you and I dragged over that little side table to rest your leg on once we get there."
Bolting upright, he stretched. His smile genuine, he beckoned her closer. "How about now? Let's get the hell out of here."
Rounding the chair, she suppressed her smile. "Cool your jets, Mr. Forsythe. This may take a while."
FOURTEEN MINUTES, TO be exact. Curt sank back in the wrought iron chair, the cool metal pressing into his back as he caught his breath. He was drenched again. And not sure whe
ther he was relieved to be outside or dreading the trip back into the house. Hearing Shannon moving around in the kitchen made him smile, despite his anxiety. She'd been blushing like crazy by the time she'd settled him into his chair. By his own count, he'd accidentally come into contact with the most amazing breasts he'd ever felt—at least twice. Had he not been so horny for her, he likely would've been shocked by the feel of her hands nearly everywhere. She'd held him up, felt him up and half-carried him, all with a cheerful sense of humor over a situation that had to be pretty awkward for her. But, because he was hot for her, he was now in some serious pain. After nine days in close quarters, it was a toss-up whether he was experiencing more pain in his knee or his groin. How he would make it back inside with Shannon—those hands on his overly sensitized body, without attacking her—he had no idea.
Forcing his raging fantasies to the back of his brain, where they would undoubtedly torture him later, he inhaled a deep breath. The air was cool and fresh, the smell clean and fragrant. Somewhere in the woods behind his house, there was a patch of wild honeysuckle. Carried on the wind, the scent wandered over the deck. It was a perfect fall evening. In two months, he'd have to wear a coat to sit outside. Before the frost of winter would set in.
God—it felt so damned good to be outside. Despite the effort it had taken, he knew he wanted to do it again. Coffee tomorrow, he vowed. A nap in the deck chair. In the sun. Travis could drag him out in the morning and haul him back inside before MaryJo arrived for the afternoon shift.
"Are you hungry?"
The melodic voice drifted over his skin like a soft breeze. Closing his eyes for a moment, he absorbed the sensation. "What are we having? It smells great."
"I'm trying a pasta salad recipe-"
He wrinkled his nose. Pasta salad? Hell, he'd have to eat the entire bowl to fill up on that. "Sounds great," he said, his voice unenthusiastic, despite the promise of his surroundings. Finally outside on a gorgeous night. Dining with a beautiful woman.
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