“I’d suggest you stay the night, Pearson,” Rafael said. “If you get a blood clot wandering through your system, it’ll cost even more. And that ultrasound is just an extra few hundred bucks – and if you get an all clear on that again, Brungo will likely let you go.”
“You think?” I had my doubts.
“They can’t hold you against your will, and I can stop by and help out some. As long as you don’t tell on me.”
“Tell who, Rafael?”
“No. My bosses. I’m just a med student, Eve. I don’t get to practice medicine yet. If I see anything at all suspicious I’m driving you back here myself.”
I turned my head to where he sat on the doctor’s stool with a clipboard with notes in his hands.
“Okay. Thanks.”
He was about to leave when I spoke up again.
“Rafael… how’s Claire and the baby?”
“Great. Claire and Michelle are doing great. You’ll get to see them later.” He pulled a picture of a one-year old cherub out of his wallet and put it in front of my face. She had a big smile, dark eyes, and fuzzy, golden hair. My heart just about stopped. She could have been mine, had our three-way Russian Roulette worked out differently.
One hundred percent.
My mind drifted to Rafael. I smiled at the picture, then I smiled at my old friend and former lover.
“She’s beautiful, Rafael.”
At that moment a huge realization dawned upon me: I was so very, very grateful that little Michelle was Claire’s and not mine. There were no outstanding obligations out there, other than just my mounting hospital bill. I was with Rafael now, and I was with him all the way.
THE TEDIUM of my hospital routine was broken by a welcome voice.
“Hey… I brought you some real dinner.” Rafael’s voice sounded from the door and I had to look over my shoulder to see him. “Dr. Hinge already told me you’ll be staying till tomorrow.”
Never in my life had I been more grateful for smell of the stimulating, delectable fragrance of take-out Indian food. There was chicken korma and rice biryani and nan. Raf set out the aluminum containers on my little food table and uncovered the lids. The fragrance of good nourishment wafted out, dulling the pervasive odor of hospital disinfectant and bland cafeteria cooking.
“Rafael, you’re the best,” I moaned from my unfortunate position.
“And don’t you forget it.” He helped me turn onto my right hip and tore up some of the buttery flatbread, loading up the pieces with rice and chicken and the creamy yogurt sauce.
“You want me to feed you?” He gave me a lascivious look. I only grinned, undecided, when his fingers drifted under my nose, bearing a morsel of real food. I shrugged and opened up.
Heaven…
Somebody moaned; I guess it must have been me. It felt decidedly odd to be serviced in such a way. I felt so spoiled and being taken care of - all I needed was a bottle of good beer. It would have been too much to ask, of course. My eyes drifted toward the cup of water.
“Thirsty?” Raf asked, and when I nodded he reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a glass bottle. He twisted the top open, then got one for himself.
“It’s non-alcoholic, sorry. Didn’t want to mess with your painkillers.”
That’s how the head nurse found us: eating fragrant Indian food and sipping beer. She raised a godawful fuss over the whole thing, ranting on how the odor spoiled the appetites of other patients, who had finally realized how hopelessly bland their own dinners were. She almost poured my beer out, until I literally begged her to inspect the label, after which she grudgingly allowed it.
“Just as well you’re so eager to go home, Ms. Pearson. You are not what I would call a calm influence on my ward.”
Once she left and closed our door – to limit the other patients’ exposure to the top notes of ginger and cardamom – Raf leaned over and asked, “Have you talked to the police?”
“Yeah.”
“How did it go?”
“Went OK, I guess. Shopping malls can be dangerous places nowadays.” I smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, giving me a serious look instead.
“Don’t go to that shopping mall again, Evelyn.” Then he fed me another piece of nan with awesome things on it and all I could do was chew and roll my eyes.
AS SOON as I was done eating, he packed the leftovers and rose to leave.
“Going already?” Disappointment rang clear in my voice.
He nodded. “I have that guy, Izzy Silberman, coming over tonight.”
By then I had completely forgotten. “Okay. Give him my best.”
“And tomorrow I’m picking you up and taking you home.”
“Great. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.”
“You’re coming to stay at my place until you can move about on your own.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“I want my own bed.” My voice sounded petulant and childish, even to me.
“Okay then. I’ll make sure you have it.”
He reached into the plastic box that contained my personal belongings, and took out my keys.
“I could just break in, you know, except I don’t think you’d want any wild surprises.”
CHAPTER 11
I HATE getting shot. I hate hospitals and hospital food and hospital regulations against cell phone use, and I hate the way they put you in a wheelchair and take you to the front door as though you couldn’t walk by yourself.
“C’m on, Evelyn, let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Raf brought me a change of clothes and a pair of shoes that didn’t have old blood inside them. He took my crutches and put them in the back seat of his car, then he opened the passenger door for me and helped me in.
“I can do it by myself,” I grumbled. My butt hurt a lot. It’s amazing how much one uses the muscles in the buttocks for walking around, and the injured parts were hard to rest.
“I know. I just want to get out of here.” And no wonder – it was Monday already.
He buckled up and gunned his dark-blue Santa Fe, merging with several lanes of traffic.
I noticed we weren’t going to my place.
“You can’t make me stay by force.” The words just kind of left my mouth without my permission. Inside, I was happy that he wanted me to stay.
Ecstatic, even.
Just… I didn’t like the way he assumed he’d make a decision and I’d be okay with it.
“I know. Give it a chance, Eve. You’ll see.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with him all the time. It was awkward. We would both want to do what comes naturally, and doing that with a distressed gluteus wouldn’t work. Saying no all the time would be bad for us. I didn’t want to share his living room sofa with all those boxes around me, overflowing with the collectibles his sister and their two aunts accumulated over many decades of yard sale frenzy. I wanted a nice, quiet, comfortable place.
A place of my own.
BEFORE I knew it, we were standing in the hallway outside his apartment. Raf pulled the keys out of his jeans pocket and unlocked the three locks on his door. He held it open for me, and I hobbled in. My goal was to bellyflop on the sofa and stay that way for a long, long time. It amazed me how tired I was just from the trip between my hospital bed and his place.
“Before you settle down, Evelyn, I want you to come see something.”
I yawned. “Later?”
“Please.” Even though the word was polite, the tone was far from patient.
Biting my tongue to stay my surly remark, I dragged behind Raf across the blue carpet of his living room, navigating my crutches past the pile of boxes and old furniture that seemed to have grown bigger since I’ve seen it last. We passed the little hallway leading to his bedroom and bathroom; we were headed toward the room full of Celia’s junk.
“Open the door,” he whispered by my ear. Feeling him so close to me gave me a rash of goose bumps up on that side,
all the way down to my knee.
Confused and just a little curious, I suppressed the shiver as I reached for the antique, glass doorknob on the dark wooden door.
I turned it, and pushed.
A sudden sense of vertigo seized me – as though I just stepped through a dimensional portal, entering another world – I didn’t recognize the room at all.
The junk was gone.
The fluffy, pink floral wallpaper had been replaced with fresh paint. The ceiling was dark blue, almost black with one wall to match it – the rest were a pale, bamboo green, with old-fashioned trim gleaming pure white under the ceiling and around the floor, snaking its way around the door frame and the closet and the tall, stately window. Gentle light filtered through the venetian blinds and the sheer white curtains. But that wasn’t all.
On the brand-new white carpet, straight in the middle of the room, stood my queen-size bed. It had my own sheets and my own pillow and my own comforter on it, and was surrounded by my own rustic pine furniture I had bought in Ikea two years ago. Two lengths of the sheer curtain material were attached to the dark blue wall, framing the top of my bed in that sort of old-fashioned, girly treatment and even though I’ve never been a girly girl, a forgotten part of me stirred.
I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t know how to feel about all this.
Stunning.
Intrusive.
But he meant well.
I kicked my shoes off and shuffled over to my bed, where I did my long-awaited belly flop. The crutches clattered to the ground but I didn’t care; I just grabbed my very own thick, feather-and-down pillow and mugged it, breathing in its comfortable, familiar scent.
It smelled like me and my stuff and latex paint residue. I’d been gone for only two days. Two days!
“Well?” Raf eyed me from the door. “How do you like your room?”
Him standing there like that felt unnatural. This was his place, after all.
“Come sit with me?” I mumbled into my pillow, my eyes sliding toward him.
He did; the side of my bed dipped under his weight, making me roll just a little.
“How did you manage all this?” I asked.
“Well…” His hand ran up and down my back, soothing me.
“Your sister told me what colors you like. Izzy Silverstein and his wife came over and helped sort what was left in here and move some of it to the living room pile and she did the curtains and such, his friend Silvio painted the room the next day and a few hours later, the carpet was put down.”
“But… my stuff! You went and got my stuff!” I vaguely remembered him having taken my keys.
“Yeah. Silvio has a pickup truck. I brought your laptop and phone charger and all that. Your toiletries are in the bathroom across the hall.”
“I never agreed to move in with you!”
“True.” His hands never stopped tracing their hypnotic pattern up and down my back. “You can always move back when you feel better.”
“I’m perfectly capable of staying on my own! I’m not a cripple.”
“Also true. Although…” His hand stopped over my right shoulder blade. “Your father insisted that you go stay at his house. With his office right next door, he would have been very happy to take care of you.”
I groaned. Not with dad again. Especially not since Carl and DeeDee were off in college, living on campus. As much as I appreciated the truce he and I currently enjoyed, staying at the house in the placid suburbs would have resulted in “discussions” I wasn’t ready to tolerate, let alone embrace.
“I guess staying with you is nicer…” I should have thanked him, but wrapping my mind around all he had done was just too much at the moment. Not to mention the small detail of having been moved to his place without my consent.
“Did you and your dad talk?” Raf asked.
“Not much. He showed up, though. I didn’t expect that.”
“You can catch up with him at your own pace,” Raf sighed.
“What? Why do you care about my dad so much?” Irritation tinged my voice; fatigue and pain eroded my patience.
“Well, he’s still alive, Evelyn. If my dad were alive, I’d love to talk to him. Sometimes, I think of him and mom… like when something goes well and I’d like to share that, and I can’t anymore.”
“Like what?” I asked, chastised.
“Like you, and what a nut you are.” Raf leaned down, kissing the top of my hair much like Rafael had.
“I’m working from home today. I have to answer some phone calls and check my email. Any special wishes for dinner?”
“Something simple, with flavor in it.”
A KNOCK on the door woke me up the next morning. I looked around all disoriented. My walls had been off-white – the only color the landlord would allow. Now they were green, with a lush, deep ceiling the color of midnight sky. My walls had been covered with posters; these pristine walls were unmarred.
“There’s a lot of artwork in the living room pile,” Raf had said the night before. “Pick anything you want and I’ll put it up. Unless there’s something you’d like from your apartment?”
“I’d have to go there and look.”
And bringing more stuff here sounds kind of... permanent.
“Go take your shower, Eve. Rafael will stop by on the way from his night shift at the hospital and show me how to do your rear.”
I pushed his shoulder, failing to rock him back much. “I thought you knew how to do that all by yourself, wiseass.”
Raf grinned. “Just a slip of the tongue,” he said, his eyes still on me as he ran the tip of his tongue across his top lip. The sight of it stirred me in places I didn’t want to think about right now. Not unless I wanted my shower to be cold.
Everything took too long. My movements were hampered by my gimping around, so by the time I stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel around my body, Rafael was sitting in the dining room with Rafael, drinking coffee.
“Hey Eve, where should we do ya?”
I rolled my eyes. “On my bed,” I yelled back. The phrasing was, apparently, just another slip of Rafael’s pointy, agile tongue.
Before I made it to my underwear drawer, the two men filled the doorway to my supposedly private domain.
“How are you doing, Pearson?” Nick asked, sounding detached in a professional sort of way.
I had to think about that. I was doing a lot better, actually, and said so.
“Good. Lie down on your stomach and I’ll show Raf what to do.”
That’s how I ended up lying down on my already made bed with just a towel wrapped around me, with those two particular guys flanking my bed, sitting next to me and discussing my posterior and its well-being. I felt Nick’s cool hands apply an antibiotic cream, and Rafael’s warm ones place the wound dressing in the right place, as directed. Both of them taped it down, stroking the adhesive strips down so they stayed.
They were touching me.
Simultaneously.
All four hands at a time.
I sneezed, the mucous tissues of my sinuses suddenly irritated by excess blood flow.
Oh no. Not now.
This was no time to become aroused. I tried to think of something else. Hospital food, my dad’s stubbly chin, my second-grade teacher with her strict glare. Nothing worked; I tried hard to keep my hips still and I guess I succeeded, at least for the most part.
I didn’t make a sound. I swear I didn’t.
The guys must have noticed my almost-suppressed wiggle anyway.
“You’re OK, Eve?” Raf asked, curiosity overwhelming the concern in his voice.
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t dare to speak.
His hand stroked my patched-up cheek. “As good as new, right, Dr. Hinge?”
I felt Nick’s cool hands leave the surface of my skin rather fast and the way he cleared his throat told me he had readjusted his rectangular eyeglasses, and that he was aware of my involuntary reaction.
“I better g
et going. I want to catch Michelle before my wife takes her to daycare.”
“Oh? Does she work?”
“Yeah…started two months ago. Just part-time for now. It’s good for both of them to get out of the house.” I would have raised my eyebrows at that - knowing Claire, that tidbit of information had surprised me - except my face was buried in my covers to disguise my tomato-red blush.
“I’ll see myself out. Bye, Rafael. Bye, Evelyn.”
I didn’t move or say goodbye.
“Eve. What’s wrong?”
The hands of two most desirable men ever on my butt at the same time. Oh, God.
I sneezed again. “Tissues.”
Raf handed me the whole box and I blew my nose, only to find out I had a nosebleed.
“Look at me.”
Hesitation gripped me, but he didn’t wait; he rolled me over to make sure I was all right and in doing so, exposed the red tissues pressed against my nose.
His expression went from amused to confused to alarmed.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh nothing.”
“That’s not nothing, Eve. You have a nosebleed!”
“Just some extra blood flow to my mucous membranes.” He watched me get another clean tissue and frowned, thinking hard. I watched the penny drop; a sudden, hard expression replaced his former smile.
“I see.”
I reached my hand to his, letting our fingers intertwine.
“I am only human, Rafael.”
He only looked away, the little green monster peering through his brilliant, blue eyes.
“Having you touch me is very erotic.” My voice was calm, matter of fact.
“And him?”
“It’s not just him, it’s both of you together. He’s helping. And… he stopped as soon as he realized what was going on.”
I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances Page 24