She glanced back over her shoulder, looking apologetic. He smiled, not at all upset to be awake if it meant spending time with her. His smile may have slipped a notch, however, when Mrs. Russo came in, all frantic energy and arms laden with gifts.
“Jason, my goodness. How are you, darling? How’s your hand? And what about your head? Victoria said you fell from a fire escape? A fire escape! It’s a miracle you survived.”
Mrs. Russo started unburdening herself of her packages on the table over his bed.
“We missed you at the Labor Day picnic a couple weeks ago. I was really hoping that you’d be there. But Vicki said you had to work. And I totally understand. Been married to a cop myself for almost forty years, so I know all about the crazy schedules and the on-call hours.” She pulled the top off an orange Tupperware container. “But lucky for you, I don’t just cook on holidays. I cook all year round, and I remembered that you’re not big on sweets, so I brought mostaccioli. My mother-in-law’s recipe. She’s a witch but she makes a mean mostaccioli.”
Victoria chuckled behind her mother, no doubt finding amusement in seeing Jason overwhelmed. Did this lady ever stop talking?
“Now, I brought proper silverware too.” Mrs. Russo laid out a placemat, cloth napkin and silverware, and then scooped some mostaccioli onto a plate that she’d also brought. “It’s still warm, so eat up. You’ll never get to feeling like your old self eating this hospital food.”
Jason tried to sit up, and before he could even struggle, both Russo women were at his side, Victoria raising the bed and Mrs. Russo adjusting the pillow behind him. He’d never been so fussed over in all his life.
“Thank you. Thanks, I got it.”
Mrs. Russo handed him a fork, and he said a little prayer of thanks that she didn’t try to spoon-feed him.
She waited, looking at Jason with her brows raised and giving an encouraging nod. His appetite hadn’t really returned yet, and the thought of eating held little appeal, but he didn’t think Mrs. Russo was likely to leave until she knew he’d tried her dish, so he forked up a mostaccioli noodle and took a bite.
Pure heaven. It was still warm and had just the right amount of mozzarella cheese, sweet tomato sauce, and pasta. It was like nothing he’d ever tasted. “This. This is amazing, Mrs. Russo. Thank you.”
Victoria laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, Jason. You’ve just solidified your spot in Mom’s favorites category. I hope you’re ready to have meals delivered to you on a weekly basis for the rest of your life.”
Surely, she was kidding. Mrs. Russo had better things to do than cook for a guy like him. But he wouldn’t be turning her away if she ever showed up with another orange Tupperware container.
“Oh!” Mrs. Russo clapped her hands. “I almost forgot.” She dug a small rectangular package out of her purse. “Vicki asked me to stop and pick this up for you.”
Jason took the package wrapped in yellow paper with his good hand and stared down at it. “What’s this?”
Victoria sat at the foot of his bed. “It’s nothing. Just a little get-well gift to keep you amused for the next few weeks while you’re off work.”
There had been very few gifts in Jason’s life. He didn’t really have a relationship with his adoptive parents—not now or when they’d shipped him off to boarding school. There’d been no letters, no packages in the mail. There had been presents for the one Christmas he’d spent with the St. James family. But outside of a few gifts-required events, no one had ever thought to get Jason a gift. Not like this. Not just because they wanted to. Staring down at the bright yellow package in his hand left an uncomfortable swelling sensation in his throat.
“I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot.” Victoria reached for the package. “Let me open that for you. Can’t be easy to do with one hand.”
Jason pulled the package back. “No, I can do it. I’ll open it.”
He took his time, laying the package on the bed and sliding a finger from his good hand under the seam to rip it open.
Inside was a paperback book. 101 Sudoku Puzzles.
“I know, it’s silly,” Victoria said. “But I noticed once that you had the newspaper at your house open to an in-progress Sudoku puzzle. And you’re about to have a lot of time on your hands, so I figured you might want something to pass the time.” She spoke quickly, as if she was trying to make a poor gift sound more appealing.
She had no idea how perfect it was. How perfect she was.
“You’re right.” He cleared the hoarseness from his voice, linking his gaze with hers. “I love puzzles. It’s a great gift. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, her lips curving into a soft smile.
He wanted to put his lips on that smile, but they had an audience at the moment.
“Well,” Mrs. Russo whispered. “I should really get going. Vicki says you haven’t slept much, and I don’t want to keep you.”
“Thank you for stopping by and for bringing dinner. It’s delicious.”
“Well, you eat up and get your strength back, and then you come by our house with Vicki for one of our monthly Sunday dinners, and I’ll make you some of my Italian beef.”
Talk of the future made Jason a little squirmy, but he appreciated Mrs. Russo’s invitation. “Sounds great,” he said, noncommittally.
Mrs. Russo kissed her daughter’s cheek and then shocked Jason by coming to the side of the bed and laying a motherly kiss to his forehead. “I try not to think of all the bad things that could happen on any given day to my husband, or to one of my boys who’re also on the force. Or to Vicki. I pray every night to St. Michael, the patron saint of police officers and paramedics, for my kids, and I’ve added you to that list.”
Not sure what to say to that, Jason said the only words he could think of. “Thank you.”
*
Victoria loved her mother—even when she was being difficult to love and trying to fix her up with other women. But there were times when Victoria found it was really incredibly easy to love Loretta Russo. Like today, when she showed up and fussed over Jason as if he were one of her own.
The look on Jason’s face when her mother told him she’d added him to her list had broken Victoria’s heart just a little. How sad that he should be so surprised when people showed they cared for him. The reverent way he’d held that silly Sudoku paperback had also taken her aback. It almost made her wonder if he wasn’t used to getting gifts.
Actually, this whole hospital stay had made her wonder about a lot of things. Like why Jason had a phobia of sedation. And was it related to why he didn’t drink? And why, in the two days that he’d been in the hospital, had no one stopped by to visit but Nick, and his wife Sandra, and a couple other officers from the police department?
There’d been no friends outside of his work. No family.
She knew he’d grown up in foster care, but she’d never imagined that he had no one.
Well, there was Preston. Preston—who despite being terribly self-absorbed about his writing had been noticeably shaken to hear the news about Jason’s accident. Victoria had called him herself before Jason went into surgery, and she’d really pitied Preston.
He’d gone back and forth with her on the phone. He was calling a cab. He’d be there right away. No, he couldn’t take a cab. Not clean enough. He’d call a private limo service. Ten minutes later, she got a text that said, I tried. I couldn’t do it. Please keep me updated.
Thinking about how if she hadn’t met Jason, he would’ve been here all by himself—would’ve been forced to deal with his debilitating fear alone—well, it made her a little bit ragey. He shouldn’t be alone. He should have a whole tribe of people supporting him. Like she did.
For once in her life, she felt extremely blessed to have a crazy, meddling mother.
“Looks like you got your appetite back,” she said, smiling at Jason when he dropped his fork and held his stomach.
“That might’ve been a mistake. I think I overdid it.”
&nbs
p; Victoria cleared the little hospital table, repacking her mother’s dishes and Tupperware into the reusable grocery bag Loretta had brought it all in.
“You know, I’ve been thinking. When you go home tomorrow, I think I should come with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I think I should. The doctor was very specific about how important it is that you don’t use your hand, and you’re going to need help. Not to mention the fact that you’ve had a head injury. I think someone should be around to observe you for signs of a hematoma.”
“A hematoma?”
“You could have a slow bleed that could’ve been missed on their initial scan. I’d like to observe you to make sure you don’t show any signs of subdural hematoma later.” She might be overshooting the odds of such a thing happening. Especially since he had passed the forty-eight hour mark, but she’d say just about anything to get him to agree. She didn’t want him recovering alone. He was stubborn, and he would use that hand.
“You worry too much,” he said.
“I’ll worry less if I’m there.”
“You have to work.”
“Aside from two days for my brother’s wedding, I haven’t taken any vacation days in a year. I’ve got plenty of time.”
“You shouldn’t waste those days on me.”
“They won’t be wasted.” She tucked the bag she’d just packed into a corner and then perched a hip on Jason’s bed, facing him. “The way I see it, you owe me.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you owe me precisely three days.”
He flinched. “Victoria, I’m sorry.”
She hadn’t intended to play this card, but he was being stubborn, and she knew just how bad he felt about the three days he hadn’t answered her messages. She had a little more Loretta Russo in her than she thought, because she wasn’t the least bit opposed to employing a giant guilt trip when it suited her cause. “Don’t be sorry. Just make it up to me.”
“How? By putting you to work taking care of an invalid?”
“You’re hardly an invalid.” Victoria lowered her voice suggestively, leaning in to nibble at his neck before whispering in his ear. “I’m fairly certain we could put your working hand to very good use.”
Growling, Jason turned his head and claimed her lips with his. “You win, Toria,” he said between kisses. “You win.”
She smiled against his lips, thinking if this was a game, then he was the prize. And she certainly did aim to win.
Chapter 24
“You’re never going to guess what I just found outside,” Victoria said, lugging her prize into Jason’s living room, where he sat with his laptop, notepad, and a small mountain of files next to him on the couch.
“You found a gaudy, extremely amateur-looking painting out by the curb with a week’s worth of my neighbor’s trash waiting for collection.”
Victoria looked down at the canvas she held in front of her. “Okay, maybe you will guess. How did you know that?”
“My neighbor’s an art student, I think. She goes through an identity crisis about once a month and throws out all her artwork.”
“Aw, that’s really kinda sad. But look. This one’s actually good.” She flipped it around so he could see the front. “It’s butterflies.”
“And you love butterflies.” Jason grinned distractedly. Victoria knew that three days home, recovering, was slowly driving him mad. And worse than that, he was feeling the pressure of September twenty-seventh. It was just around the corner, and he was no closer to stopping their arsonist. “You should hang it in your apartment,” he said, opening another file from the stack, holding it awkwardly with his bulky splinted and bandaged hand.
“Oh, no. I have another place in mind for it.” Victoria started for the stairs and heard a quick shuffling of papers as Jason stood up.
“Where are you going with that? Victoria, you are not hanging that thing in my house.”
She turned on the steps. “Oh, come on. You have a periodic table hanging over your bed.” Which she knew because she’d been sleeping in his bed for the past two nights. Without him of course. The no-sleeping-together rule was still in full force. Jason’s second bedroom was an office, so he slept in the recliner downstairs, which he insisted was far more comfortable as he could keep his hand safely on the armrest. A plausible excuse to be sure, but she suspected he just wasn’t ready to bring down his barrier made up of rules.
“So?” he said. “It looks good there.”
“A periodic table looks good in a high school science classroom. You’re a grown man. You should have some sophisticated art in your household.”
“That—” Jason pointed his bandaged hand at the painting. “—is not a sophisticated piece of art.”
“Yes, it is.” Victoria dropped the painting on the stair in front of her and gestured like an auto-show model. “This isn’t just a picture of some yellow butterflies. Look at the red and orange tones in the background. They’re reminiscent of flames, don’t you think? These are butterflies flying out of the fire.” Glancing up, she laid the snooty art critic voice on a little thicker, hoping to make him laugh. He’d been far too tense the last few days. “Jason, these are survivor butterflies. What’s more sophisticated than that?”
His brows drew together behind his glasses. He didn’t have the coordination to put his contacts in left-handed, and truth be told, Victoria preferred the nerdy eyewear. There was something about a muscular guy in Clark Kent frames that really did it for her.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, incredulous.
“Okay, so the painting’s message doesn’t speak to you. That’s fine. What about the colors? You have dark-brown bedding. This pop of color would be perfect above your bed.”
Jason shook his head and walked back to couch, flopping down in the middle of his research again. “Fine. Hang the picture. I don’t have time to argue about this.”
Victoria bit her lip. Not quite the reaction she’d been hoping for. And while his tone was a bit unnecessary, she knew it was the stress talking. He wanted to stop this arsonist, and she was distracting him with nonsense about redecorating. She should remember that distraction was her way of coping, not his. Jason liked to problem-solve.
Walking up the stairs, Victoria did her best to walk silently, the way she used to when she was a little girl and her dad worked the night shift and slept during the day. She’d just stay out of Jason’s way for a little while and let him work on his puzzle.
Up in his bedroom, she took down the periodic table framed in an inexpensive plastic poster frame. She’d put it back, of course. She wasn’t going to redecorate if Jason didn’t want her to, but she did want to see if the butterfly painting looked as good as she thought it would.
With the late afternoon sun streaming through the window, Victoria stepped back to study the picture. It did look good. She was right—the red, orange, and yellow were perfect with his dark-brown comforter. And surprisingly, the painting wasn’t overly feminine. Despite the butterflies, the bold colors fit with the masculine feel of the room.
Satisfied that she’d been right, Victoria knelt on the bed to remove the painting.
“Leave it,” Jason said from the doorway, startling her. “You were right. It looks good there.”
“Jason, I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry. I was a complete ass just now.”
“It’s okay. I know you’re stressed about the case—”
“That’s no excuse for me to snap at you.”
Victoria tilted her head, studying him. Would it always be difficult for him to believe he deserved a little forgiveness once in a while? “Well, actually it is. It’s a very good excuse. You’re human. We all get irritated once in a while.”
“You’re not…”
“Not what?”
“An irritation. Ever. I…” He leaned against the doorjamb, looking down at the floor, and she went to him, unable to resist giving him a hug when he looked so d
efeated. He straightened from the doorway and wrapped his arms—arm—around her, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” she said, her face pressed into the warm cotton of his t-shirt.
“Not knowing what’s going to happen or where it’s going to happen is making me a little crazy.”
“I know.”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider calling in sick to work on the twenty-seventh?”
“Jason.” She leaned back in his arms and found his usually calm-water eyes looking more like troubled seas. “You know I can’t do that. That’d be like asking you not to go to an armed robbery call when the dispatcher calls your number.”
He sighed. “I know.” Using his good arm, he pulled her back to him and placed a kiss to her temple. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You know what you need?” she asked, leaning back in his arms again.
“What?”
“I know you’re the type to work on a problem until you find a solution, but maybe you need to stop thinking about this case for a little while. Maybe you need a distraction, so you can return to it with fresh eyes.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Well…”
*
Jason’s pulse kicked up a notch when she whispered ideas for distracting him into his ear. That throaty, velvety voice of hers was every bit as erotic as the words falling from her lips.
And God, he needed her. Since he’d been home from the hospital, the pain in his hand had kept him from indulging in her delectable body. He would’ve put up with any amount of pain to have her, but Victoria was entirely too perceptive. She read every subtle twinge of discomfort in his face, and then tried to make it better somehow, offering him painkillers or encouraging him to keep his hand elevated. He didn’t want the painkillers, but more than that, he didn’t want to keep putting that little worried wrinkle on her brow. So, he’d stopped trying to start things with her.
But after days of having her in his house, wearing her short running shorts and teasing him with those beautiful legs, he couldn’t hold out any longer. Pain be damned.
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