Home Sweet Love

by Ava Miles

  “What the hell else am I going to do in this godforsaken town?” His good hand was gripping the side of the wheelchair so hard his knuckles were white.

  The dart struck her heart, and she flinched. “Well, that’s the least complimentary pickup line I’ve ever received, you’ll be interested to know,” she said in a hard tone, one he deserved. “I honestly didn’t think anyone could top the jerk who grabbed my arm at a bar a couple of years ago and said, ‘Hey, you’re not bad. Wanna fuck?’”

  His gray eyes locked on hers, and he frowned. “I’m sorry, Moira. That came out wrong.”

  “No shit,” she said, shaking it off. “Let’s forget you said it.”

  “No…I need to explain myself.”

  She glanced at the lake, not wanting to look at him. “I don’t know that I want to hear this. It might be better—”

  “I was thinking about asking you out before this…travesty happened,” he interrupted. “I’ve been weighing the pros and cons because we work together. You amuse me—except when you’re siding with Evan—and you’re smart and beautiful. If my head didn’t hurt so much, I could probably say this better.” He paused and then added, “You’re right. Never mind.”

  She took her time to consider his words, still staring at the lake. Chase’s words had hurt. A whole heck of a lot, and that scared her. She was feeling way too vulnerable with him.

  “I don’t date crabs,” Moira said, as a way of retreating from the seriousness of the conversation. She finally returned her gaze to him. “Or stubborn-minded bulls.”

  His mouth twitched. “So I’m screwed either way, huh?”

  On some level she knew the question wasn’t rhetorical. He was asking her. She thought about it some more. Like she had a hundred times since meeting him. Beyond their work responsibilities, he didn’t live in Dare Valley permanently. Judging from all of his grumblings about small towns, they never would. They wouldn’t have to see each other often if things went bad, and besides, they were both professionals. Neither would let a…what would she call a thing with Chase? A liaison? Certainly not a fling.

  “If you resort to your happier self, there’s hope for you yet,” she said, meeting his steady gaze.

  His eyes narrowed. “Then I guess it’s a good thing for both of us that I’m laid up. I couldn’t even put my arms around you.”

  Her brow rose at his comment. “Guess so, but you strike me as a creative type. All right, wheel yourself in, boy wonder. Or do I need to go and find Nurse Ratched?”

  “One named Candy would be preferable,” Chase shot back. “And thank you for allowing that I might be creative.”

  It seemed best to ignore that statement. For the moment, anyway, they were at an impasse. She wouldn’t go out with him unless he properly asked her, and he was obviously not in a place to be courteous about anything.

  “Are you going to go inside finally, or are we going to have a tussle on the porch?” She laid her hands on her hips. “If you want a fight, I’ll give it to you. I’m out of patience, Chase.”

  He looked down in his lap, rocking his chair forward with one clockwise motion of the controls. “I’ll go in, but I’m going to talk to Evan about finding a new place when he gets back from Great Falls.”

  “Fine,” she said as he wheeled past her and into the house. “You do that.”

  “This is eerie,” Chase said, directing his wheelchair into the cozy den. “It reminds me of…” He cut himself off abruptly and said, “You don’t have to stay with me.”

  She wondered what it reminded him of, but since he was being so disagreeable, she wasn’t about to ask. Personally Moira loved the floor plan. The den and dining room were connected in an open layout, just like Evan had requested, while the kitchen and three bedrooms were situated in the back of the house. It wasn’t the biggest house in Dare Valley, but it had been both available and furnished.

  “You’re lucky Evan is an inventor,” Moira said, walking over to the coffee table and picking up the specially wired remote control. “He only had a day to tinker with the place, but he programmed the refrigerator to open for you, and the lower shelves extend and retract now. I know he’s a genius, but watching him modify basic appliances like that… It was amazing.”

  “Yeah, Evan is pretty amazing.”

  Since his tone was less than enthusiastic, Moira crossed her arms. “You’re also lucky he’s your friend. You’ve been hurting his feelings, Chase.”

  “And he’s hurting my feelings by limiting my ability to my work,” Chase shot back. “If he can modify a refrigerator, he can modify the tools I use to work. Isn’t the backlighting of electronic devices the only problem with me answering emails?”

  She saw where he was headed with this. “No, I believe it’s the mental concentration writing and reading require. Your brain is hurt. It needs rest to heal. No invention will fix that—only your body.”

  He hung his head. “I know the nurse Evan hired is scheduled to swing by soon. You have a real job. I suggest you get back to it.”

  His comment raised her hackles, and she had to bite back an angry retort. “If you hadn’t been so adamant about not letting the nurse stay here with you full-time, you’d have no need to keep up with her schedule. How are you planning to bathe and dress?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he said, putting a hand to his head. “Maybe I’ll just sit in these clothes for the next couple of weeks.”

  “Rot, huh?” She fisted her hands at her sides. “You’re being impossible!”

  His eyes shot fire at her. “I told you. Get back to your real job, Moira. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  She laid the remote back on the coffee table, close enough for him to reach it. “All right, that’s it. No, I’m not a babysitter, although from the way you’re acting, you need one to tell you to take a time out. I am a professional, but I’m also your friend. Evan is too. Are you really going to keep yelling at us because you’re mad this happened to you? Because if so, I’m going to come to check on you with ear plugs next time. As it is, I’m starting to consider myself a modern saint for putting up with your shit.”

  His hands fell to his lap. “I’m sorry. You’re right, Moira. I have no right to speak to you that way.” His voice was softer now. “It’s just…I feel like you and Evan are taking my whole life away. Work is my life.”

  She unclenched her fists. “We’re only trying to help, Chase. Truly. Maybe this time off will help you figure out there’s more to life than work.” She was sad he didn’t know that already.

  He winced when he tried to narrow his eyes, telling her a lot about the pain he was experiencing. “Do you believe there’s more to life than work? From where I’m sitting—or from where I’m stuck—you work a lot too.”

  “But I balance that with family time and fun,” she told him. “Sure, I work hard and I love what I do, but it’s not everything.”

  “Well, not all of us are lucky to have a family like yours, but we make do. I’m not ashamed of the way I live my life. Most people are jealous of what I have. I’ve worked damn hard for it.”

  She wondered about his family, but this wasn’t the time to ask. Something told her the topic was off-limits. “Maybe this is a good time for you to figure out what else you like to do besides work.”

  “Besides having sex occasionally and eating good meals?” His growl was impressive. “I’m turning forty in a few months. I think I would have found it by now.”

  Apparently this was another conversation it would be best to postpone. “Let’s table this. How about I help you out of your wheelchair? Evan and I practiced with my brother until we got it right.” She wasn’t as strong as Evan, but it mostly came down to leverage anyway.

  “I practiced it too, and while it’s not pretty, it won’t embarrass me as much.” He sighed deeply. “I’d get all surly again, and you don’t deserve that.”

  “Surlier than you already are?” Moira asked, saying it dramatically in the hopes of scaring a smile out of him.
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  One side of his mouth twitched, and that was all she got. “I’m…not good at being…impaired like this.”

  She crossed the room to stand near his wheelchair. “Imagine what someone who’s permanently in this chair must feel.”

  “I have. I’ve already given a hefty donation to a few organizations for people with disabilities.”

  “That’s lovely of you,” she said. With that one comment, he’d reminded her of all the reasons she liked him. Only…

  “Wait. How did you do that? I thought Evan rigged your phone.” Temporarily disabling his phone’s major functions hadn’t been enough. This proved it.

  “I talked one of the nurses into helping me make donations on her laptop.”

  “What else did you do?” she asked, gazing at him suspiciously. “If you worked on Quid-Atch—”

  “I can’t work on a non-secure computer, Moira. You know that.”

  Chase was the last person she’d suspect of breaking that rule, so she let the subject drop. “How about a tour of the house?”

  “I’m sure you and Evan made sure everything is in order.” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “Go. I don’t need you.”

  The edge in his voice was what made her decide to stay. Dammit, she hated being the bigger person. “I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”

  “Bourbon. Neat.”

  “Not on your approved list of beverages.”

  “Moira, I meant it when I said you could leave. The nurse will be here in another hour. I’ll be fine. I won’t drive around with scissors or anything.”

  The joke made her lips twitch. She sat on the couch and picked up the TV remote on the coffee table. “Good plan. Andy said you could listen to TV if you wanted. How about ESPN?”

  “How stereotypical of you to suggest a sports channel,” he said, wheeling close to her. “I can listen to TV? Am I supposed to turn my chair around while it’s on?”

  “Evan disabled the TV screen so all you have is audio.”

  “He thought of everything.” Another heartfelt sigh. “CNBC would be nice.”

  Of course he wanted the news. “You should listen to the Hallmark Channel. Some warm fuzzies might improve your mood.”

  “If you turn the TV to the Hallmark Channel, I’ll find a way to run you down in this contraption.” He glared at her, and even in a wheelchair with a broken arm and leg, Chase could be pretty intimidating. But she had a brother whose nickname was Matty Ice. He wasn’t going to break her.

  “Good thing I can outrun you.”

  He harrumphed again.

  “Besides, if you kill me, you won’t be able to ask me out once you remember how to be nice.” She gave him a smirk just to get his goat.

  He rolled his eyes and winced, likely from the pain it caused. “I think I changed my mind. I’m starting to think you are Nurse Ratched.”

  He was full of shit. He’d be lucky to get her to go out with him. Especially after seeing this side of him. If they ended up being an ongoing thing, how would be react to a common cold or the flu? God help her.

  She clicked through the channels, lingering on the Hallmark Channel for just long enough to tease him before continuing to CNBC. “Your loss. I do rock a nurse’s uniform.” Okay, maybe it was a little mean of her to throw that out there, but he’d exhausted her higher nature.

  As the commentator began to discuss the Asian markets, she saw him smile and heard him all but purr, “I bet you do.”

  Chapter 9

  “Helga!” Chase said the moment Evan walked into the sickeningly charming cabin that had become his prison. “You hired a nurse named Helga?”

  “No one else could stand up to you,” Evan said, shutting the door after he set two large suitcases on the den floor. “Besides, Andy says she’s the best nurse in the state. He was a gem to help me find her on such short notice.”

  The cold air that had been wafting through the door was the first fresh air Chase had experienced in over a day. There was snow on the ground, and—laid up like he was—he couldn’t exactly go for a hike. He’d been nauseous from the concussion, which only aggravated everything. Thankfully, the throbbing in his head was dull at the moment. In the middle of the night, he’d tried to roll over and almost cried from the pain. It was nearly impossible to sleep with his head injury and all this plaster.

  “I’m going to go crazy being cooped up like this. With Helga! She could win a Sumo wrestling competition.”

  “That’s the point,” Evan said. “She won’t take any of your shit, and trust me, she won’t be inclined to accept any inducements either.”

  Like money, Chase realized he meant. Yeah, he’d thought about bribing his nurse. “I would never insult her that way.”

  His friend had the nerve to chuckle.

  “I also can’t stay here,” he told Evan. “I hate this house. You need to find me another one.”

  Of course, he couldn’t tell Evan the real reason, which he’d almost spilled to Moira. The damn house was an almost exact replica of his family’s ranch house in Wyoming. Of course, it was a common floor plan and style in the mountains, but still. Every time he looked at the massive flagstone hearth, his chest felt tight. While the furnishings were nicer, there were still too many homey touches. Every time he swung his chair around, he expected to catch a glimpse of his mother and father. His little brother. There was no question—being cooped up was messing with his head.

  “Trust me, this is the best place we could find,” Evan said. “I brought what I thought you might want, but with those casts, we’re going to have to make some slits in your shirts and pants. And I felt weird packing your underwear. I deserve a Best Friend Medal for that alone.”

  “Funny,” Chase said, doing his best to ignore the urge to itch at the edge of the cast on his leg. “Yesterday, Moira suggested tear-away stripper apparel. She wasn’t even joking. How many more indignities must I suffer?”

  “Yeah, she told me,” Evan admitted. “Margie thought it was a great idea. Then they bonded over cinnamon rolls and Channing Tatum’s abs…and dance moves. I kinda hate that guy. He’s made it hard for every man in the free world. What other guy can get on the floor and hump it like that without making his woman laugh hysterically?”

  Chase had enough use of his brain to realize Evan must have seen the movie in question at some point. He allowed himself a groan. “Are we really discussing Magic Mike? Evan, I’m cooped up here, and I’m serious about hating this house.”

  “I know!” There was that look in his friend’s eyes—the one Evan always had when he’d brainstormed a potential invention. Only this time, Chase had a feeling he was the invention. “Close your eyes.”

  “Give me a break.” He stared back at him in a silent refusal.

  “Do it! Work with me.”

  He gave in.

  “First thing that comes to mind. Favorite thing to do as a kid.”

  A vision of riding fences with his dad on horseback flashed through his mind. After they lost the ranch, he’d never ridden horses again, only bulls. “Nothing.”

  “Try again. Did you make anything fun?”

  “This isn’t a therapy session, Evan. Come on.”

  The hardwood floor squeaked, ostensibly because his friend had walked toward him. “C’mon. When I was a kid, I was always tinkering around. There must have been something you liked to do back then.”

  An image came to mind—another memory with his dad. “I used to smoke meat,” he found himself saying.

  “Really?”

  Chase opened his eyes to see Evan crouched down in front of him. “You know I lived on a ranch. We butchered our own meat. My dad smoked some of the parts while my mom cooked the others. You can make anything taste better with a good smoke. Even tongue.”

  Evan made a gagging sound. “Tongue! That’s disgusting.”

  “You lived in France, Evan,” Chase said. “They use offal in everything.”

  “Doesn’t mean I tried it,” Evan said. “So you smok
ed meat. What was your favorite?”

  Chase decided to play along. After all, he had nothing better to do. “Bacon.” Largely because it involved time with both his father and mother. “And ribs. Nothing better than smoked ribs.”

  “Did you ever draw?”

  Chase shook his head on reflex, and pain shot across his skull.

  “Paint?”

  “No,” he said in exasperation. “We ranched, and trust me, that means you’re up before dawn milking cows and feeding animals. Then I’d go to school and come home to more chores, after which I would do homework and go to bed.”

  “What about music?” Evan asked.

  There had been singing during chores. He lifted his shoulder. “My parents liked music. My mom had a fine singing voice.” The last time he’d heard it had been at his dad’s funeral. They’d sung “Amazing Grace,” and Chase had fought tears at how raspy and halting his mom’s normally angelic voice had sounded.

  “Do you play an instrument?” Evan asked.

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?” His friend didn’t blink once. “I played a little guitar, and I sang. Happy?”

  “As a clam,” Evan said, standing and rubbing his hands together. “Beyond your clothes, I also brought something I found in your closet. At first I thought it might have been an old girlfriend’s. Wasn’t Trisha’s style.”

  Chase watched as Evan unzipped one of the suitcases and drew out a pillow. His heart stopped.

  “The more I looked at it, the more I realized the stitching wasn’t from a factory or anything. In fact, the pillow smelled a little off to me. Then I realized why.”

  His friend held up the pillow his mother had sewed by hand. The backing was a simple cream fabric, but it was the front that garnered the attention. On a bold blue fabric, his mom had cross-stitched Home Sweet Love in the center in white thread. Pain shot through his heart, and Chase had to bite down to keep from crying out.

  “You shouldn’t have brought that, Evan,” he ground out, suddenly sweating.

  “Who made it? Your mom?” He brought the pillow over and set it in Chase’s lap.