by Amy Knupp
Nadia shook her head minutely and tried to get her mind on this meeting. This very important meeting that could mean a chunk of unanticipated revenue.
When Dr. Morris and his planner left almost an hour later, Nadia exchanged a confident smile with her mom.
“It looks good,” Nadia said quietly.
Her mom shot a quick look at the doctor’s backside; he was at the other end of the hall, about to turn out of their line of sight. “Yes, it does,” she agreed emphatically.
“Mom! He’s nice but he’s…old.”
Her mom laughed. “Hate to tell you this but he’s not more than about five years older than me, dear daughter.”
“Oh. But he’s a client. Or will be soon, anyway.”
“Stop,” Joyce said, still smiling. “I’m not going to have a fling or anything. I merely said he looks good. And I agree, they’re going to sign. Nice job, once you recovered from…whatever that was. Who texted you?”
Nadia sighed, on the verge of blowing off the question. But she and her mom didn’t hide much from each other. Not telling her about Penn made it seem as if there was something going on. There wasn’t. Nothing but an unexpected apology. She briefly explained what had happened the other night.
“This is the back-injury patient?” Joyce asked.
“Right.”
“Penn? Didn’t you go out on a date with a Penn?”
Crap. She needed to start hiding more from her mom. “Kind of.”
“There aren’t many Penns around,” her mom said knowingly.
“Same guy. But the dating part is over.”
“Well, something doesn’t sound exactly over if you’re bringing him food and he’s texting you.”
“His meds must have worn off or something, but believe me, he doesn’t like me. Did you not hear the part about him blaming me for his accident? And dinner was the least I could do since it was my fault.”
Her mother shot her a doubtful look but Nadia didn’t give it much thought. She needed to catch Cheryl before she left for the day to make sure she’d worked out some last-minute solutions for an event tomorrow.
“Did you text him back?” her mom asked, waiting for her at the door.
“Not yet.” Nadia grabbed her copy of the events bible and hurried into the hallway.
“Don’t leave the poor guy hanging.”
“I won’t, Mom. I’ll respond to him. Soon.”
CHAPTER NINE
PENN THOUGHT ALL HE NEEDED was a drink of water.
As soon as Zoe and Coop went out the front door on another grocery run, Penn talked himself into getting off the edge of the bed where he’d been perched, just about paralyzed by the storm of a hundred different emotions going through him.
He’d been through what felt like dozens of appointments and consultations that afternoon. Zoe had been a saint to go with him because he couldn’t have handled the news alone. She’d hesitated to leave him by himself now but he’d managed to persuade her that they all needed to eat.
As if he had any kind of appetite.
Slowly, wearily, he made his way to the kitchen for a glass. When he grabbed one from the bottom shelf, he fumbled with it and it fell to the counter. The crash rattled his already thinly stretched nerves and he swore. Pounded the counter next to it, making the glass jump.
Without thinking, he picked up the glass and flung it across the room as hard as he could, ignoring the pang in his lower back and receiving momentary satisfaction as the glass shattered against the wall. Rage shoved the satisfaction aside in no time, and Penn reached for another glass. Hurled it at the same spot on the wall. Without twisting, he turned to get another and another, ranting and cussing at the top of his lungs.
He’d lost count by the time the shelf was empty and eyed the one above. The fight drained from him and he was suddenly too tired to even get the drink he’d set out for before losing it. He stood there, ramrod straight, holding on to the counter, not sure he trusted himself to do anything else.
When someone knocked on the door, he ignored it. No doubt it was a neighbor who’d heard all the glasses being smashed and his incoherent tirade. They’d just have to assume he was dead in here because he wasn’t answering the goddamn door.
He stared at the wood grain on the cabinet at eye level, tracing the curves of it with his eyes, feeling blessedly numb. His breathing once again evened out. When the knocking came again, he barely noticed it.
He realized his mistake as the front door opened but he had a hard time summoning up any anger at Cooper for leaving it unlocked. He’d worked all the mad out of himself and had nothing left.
“Penn?”
Not even Nadia’s voice pulled him out of his stupor. He listened to her footsteps ease into the condo as she hollered again. She headed to his bedroom. Moments later, he heard her gasp when she reached the doorway to the kitchen.
“Oh, my God, are you okay, Penn?”
He turned around to face her and caught sight of the impressive pile of glass on the opposite end of the kitchen floor. “Better now.”
“What happened?” She carefully made her way toward him, avoiding the shards of glass.
Penn merely shook his head, deciding it was pretty damn obvious what had happened and if she couldn’t figure it out, that wasn’t his problem. He watched her approach, waiting for the now-familiar surge of anger. It was only a ripple instead of the tidal wave she usually created in him, and didn’t that say a shit-ton about his mental state?
The fear in her eyes finally compelled him to speak. “Had a bit of a temper tantrum, I guess.”
She again glanced at the glass pile. “I guess. Where’s your dustpan and broom?”
“You’re not cleaning it up.”
“And how are you going to get down on the floor to do it?” she asked gently.
Excellent point he hadn’t yet thought of.
Nadia set a white paper sack on the counter, brushed past him and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. She pulled out a whisk broom but apparently couldn’t find a dustpan. When she looked at him again in question, he said, “That’s Coop’s department.”
She stood and looked around the kitchen, her gaze settling on the mail that Coop had evidently thrown on the bar. She picked up a sturdy sales flyer from the grocery store. Bending down, she began sweeping glass onto it and systematically dumping it into the trash can. Penn tried to think of what he could do to help her, but short of bending down and doing it himself, all he could come up with was moving the trash can closer as she worked her way across the floor in silence.
“Coop could do this when he gets home,” he said tiredly.
“Did something happen to set you off today?” she asked.
“Please, Nadia. Stop.”
She stood and dumped more glass into the trash. She gazed up at him and, in spite of everything—the insanity and tragedy of his day, the ugly animosity he normally didn’t hesitate to throw her way—he got caught up in the blue of her eyes. Just a little bit. She was so damn pretty. And unreasonably patient with him.
“You look awful. Why don’t you go lie down?”
No response came to him. He wasn’t about to go back to bed with her still in the place, but he needed to get off his feet. Physical exhaustion had set in long ago and his adrenaline from the glass incident stopped pumping. Sitting down was preferable to falling on his ass. He went to the living room without a word.
All he wanted to do was to flop down onto the saggy brown couch that was almost as good as comfort food. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t even lower himself carefully onto it, because he might not be able to get back up without excruciating pain. No cushions for him.
He took the straight-back dining chair Coop had lifted from the station and turned it around in front of the window. Straddling it, he faced the view of the deserted swimming pool.
Sounds from the kitchen were rhythmic and regular: the sweeping of more glass, the lid going up on the trash can, glass clinking in, lid going down. When there was a long br
eak in the beat, he waited for the cycle to start again. Instead, he heard Nadia approaching him from behind.
Without a word, she leaned against the window, her hands on the low sill supporting her weight. She studied him with a question in her eyes.
The least he could do was explain.
Seconds ticked by, turned into minutes, as Penn willed himself to put the doctor’s prognosis into words. He needed to say it, to get used to saying it.
He rose from the chair, slowly, in the way he’d learned to move in the past few days to avoid a shot of pain in his lower back. He took several steps away from her.
“My firefighting career is over.”
A sound came from behind him, a quiet gasp as if someone had died. Not far from true. His career was as dead as a skunk in the road.
He waited for her to speak. Silently dared her to deny his news. When he finally turned around to face her, he saw the last thing he’d ever expected. Nadia’s eyes were closed, her face distorted as if she was the one in pain, and tears ran down her cheeks.
Hell. He hated to see a woman cry. Something inside him stirred to life, breaking through the ice that’d kept him numb since the last glass had been flung.
He closed the space between them, stopping a few inches in front of her and waiting for her to look at him. Instead, she moved into him, covering her eyes with her hands, and buried her face in his chest.
Her hair tickled his chin and the scent of it teased his nostrils. Berries and sweet vanilla. He lifted his arms, hesitating, then tentatively rested them on her sides, at the curve of her waist. He held her like that while seconds ticked into minutes, only vaguely aware that he should be the one in need of comforting.
He felt her inhale deeply, felt it in the way her middle shifted beneath his hands, and before he knew it, she’d straightened and taken a step back from him.
“I’m sorry, Penn. That’s terrible news. What are you going to do?” she asked, backing up to the window again.
Penn retook his position on the chair, again straddling the seat, resting his arms on the back of it. “Do?” He shrugged. Question of the decade. “Go to therapy when they tell me to, work my butt off to regain as much strength and agility as I can.”
She didn’t comment. Seemed even less satisfied with his answer than he was.
This exact scenario—being told his career was over—had been on his mind since he’d first woken up after the injury and been in such excruciating pain. He’d been unsettled for almost three weeks, imagining what might become of his future. Now he knew. Hated every bit of it, but he knew.
Nadia wove their fingers together, grasping his hand and squeezing. He let her. Was too tired to make a fuss over anything, and if he was honest, the contact felt good, minimal though it was.
“I wish I knew what to say to make it easier, Penn.”
Her sky-blue eyes didn’t waver from his and the air between them changed. Sparked with an awareness that buried all the ugly things he’d felt toward her lately and made him regret they’d never really gotten the chance to explore the attraction between them. She moistened her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth, making his heart speed up.
Before he could register what was happening, Nadia leaned forward and kissed him. The touch was brief, as if this were just a friendly gesture, but her mouth hovered a breath away from him and their eyes met again. As her lids lowered, she pressed her lips back to his and there was nothing friendly about it this time. She tilted her head and teased his lips with her tongue. Penn instinctively cradled the back of her head with his free hand as the kiss deepened, needing the contact, the distraction, as much as he needed oxygen. She tasted of sugar, a heaven of sweetness he couldn’t get enough of.
He was vaguely aware of her taking his face in her hands, of the rumble that came from his throat as they tried to ignore the oddness of their position. He could touch more of her if he stood up and pulled her body into him, but to do so in his condition would mean stopping, if only temporarily. Stopping was not an option.
He dropped his hand to her waist, pulled her closer. Nadia stumbled when her foot rammed into the leg of the chair. The contact of their lips ended abruptly as she reached out for his shoulder to regain her balance. Penn steadied her with his hand at her middle.
She tried to laugh, embarrassed. Straightened. “Awkward.”
Awkward was an understatement. If he could move like a normal person, none of that would have happened. He got a taste of the anger that had been absent since his kitchen rampage. He stood again.
“Why did you come over today, Nadia?” His words had a way of turning the sensual tension between them into something altogether more unpleasant.
She narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know she hadn’t missed the change in his tone. “I meant to text you back days ago. After you apologized. I brought cookies for you. My great-grandmother’s chocolate chip recipe, sold exclusively at Silver Sands. I don’t take them to just anybody.”
The bag she’d set on the counter, he realized. He nodded. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have come over. As you may have noticed, I’m not in my right mind.”
“Yeah, I kind of gathered that. Lucky for you, I need to go, anyway.”
“Let me guess. Back to work?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m having dinner at Faith’s.”
The front door burst open at that moment and Cooper and Zoe destroyed the mood.
“I can’t believe you made me take him,” Zoe said when she saw Penn sitting there. “How do you two even stand upright with all the crap you put into your bodies? You should be dead.”
“Got your Dew, dude.” Cooper came in behind Zoe, rolling his eyes as he shut the door. “Whoops. Are we interrupting something?”
“Not a thing,” Penn said, relieved that Nadia was moving toward the door.
“Hi,” his nosy sister said to Nadia. She set down her two grocery bags and extended her hand. “I’m Zoe. Penn’s sister.”
“Nadia Hamlin.”
The look on Zoe’s face at hearing Nadia’s name was easy for Penn to read. It was nosy and knowing. One hundred percent smart-ass sister.
“Nice to meet you,” Zoe said. “Too bad you can’t stay.”
“I just brought some cookies over for Penn. Sorry to have to run.”
“Cookies?” Coop asked.
“In the kitchen. Help yourself.” Penn went to the door and opened it wider, hoping to hurry Nadia along so he could retreat to his bedroom.
His roommate went after the cookies. Zoe picked up her bags again and followed Coop into the kitchen.
He cleared his throat, trying to force down his renewed annoyance—at who knew what, Nadia, life, the cheeriness of his sister and roommate, you name it—and worked hard to get out what he knew he needed to say. “Thank you for taking care of the mess.”
Nadia nodded, walking past him without slowing down. “See you later, Penn.”
Well, goody for him. He’d managed to erase the effects of Nadia’s kiss in record time.
CHAPTER TEN
NADIA HAD HAD to pull over and sit in her car for a few minutes after leaving Penn’s condo. She’d told Cooper she could take whatever Penn dished out but today’s sample had been unreal.
His subtle coldness after she’d made the mistake of kissing him still lingered with her, even when she pulled up outside Faith’s house. And while it might have been easier to feel anger toward him and nothing else, that wasn’t to be. Because she knew how much he was hurting. Could imagine how staggering it was to lose one’s career.
She relaxed her tense shoulders and told herself to set all the Penn stuff aside for a few hours while she had dinner with her two best friends in the world. She climbed out of her car and walked up the flight of stairs to Faith’s front door.
“Hey, about time you showed up, busy girl,” Faith said as she let her in. She picked up the gray, nearly full-grown cat winding its way around her feet. “Long day at work?”
Once Nadia was inside, Faith closed the door and set the purring cat down.
Faith looked a little worse for the wear, but then she’d been sick for the past week. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. She normally wore cute clothes, even when the three of them—she, Nadia and Mercedes—were staying in, but today she had on old cutoff jean shorts and a stretched-out lavender T-shirt. Nadia had tried to convince her to put off dinner, but Faith insisted she needed a mellow girls’ night.
“Are you feeling better?” Nadia said, ignoring the question.
“Mostly. Not contagious, though. Come on in. Mercedes is making the salad. Lasagna is in the oven.”
Joe, Faith’s fiancé, came down the stairs then and picked up his cell phone and keys from one of the end tables.
“Our power corporate girl finally made it. How’re you doing, Nadia?”
“Late as usual,” she said, grinning. “I brought cookies.”
“You’re forgiven.” Joe came over and took the bag, identical to the one she’d delivered to Penn, opened it and helped himself.
“Hey,” Faith said, swatting him lightly and taking the bag away. “Girls’ night, girls’ cookies. Aren’t you leaving?”
“If I have to.” Joe pulled Faith into him and kissed her, so tenderly, lingering for a moment afterward. A scene like that could make any single girl ache, even one who avoided relationships with every fiber of her being. “Take care of yourself,” he said in a private voice. “Don’t overdo it.”
“Go. Have fun at the Shack. Eat some seviche for me.”
“You’re going to the Shell Shack?” Nadia asked, well aware that the bar scene wasn’t Joe’s favorite thing.
“Long enough to give you women some girl time and to wish Nate a happy birthday.”
“I meant to get him a card,” Faith said. “You know, since none of the twenty men in the department will think of that.”
“You’ve had other things on your mind. I’ll buy him a drink on your behalf. He’ll like that better. Behave yourselves, ladies.”
Joe was out the door and the sound of vegetable chopping echoed from the next room. Nadia followed Faith into the kitchen and greeted Mercedes with a side hug.