“Did you use up all the duct tape and garbage bags I had in the garage?”
He looked vaguely startled. Then his lips tilted a little. “There’s some tape left on the roll. But you’ll be needing more bags.”
“Good to know.” She picked up his gray soft-knit boxers. “Ready?”
He grimaced, but he moved over to the side of the bed and awkwardly sat down. “As ready as I’m ever going to be, I guess.”
Chapter Eight
“Well?” Lisa Pope plopped down onto the chair next to Courtney’s. “How are things going with your Mr. Hyde?”
Courtney eyed her coworker. “The same way they’ve been going in the month since he arrived,” she said blithely.
She didn’t feel blithe, though.
Since the morning four weeks earlier when he’d insisted he was no hero, they’d both been very careful not to forget the rules of their arrangement.
In one sense, it was working admirably. They’d fallen into a fairly comfortable routine that had involved no more disasters like broken casts. When she got off shift in the morning, they shared breakfast together. Then she’d help him shower, when he was insistent about it—fortunately, his garbage-bag-and-duct-tape method had been effective enough to repeat—and dress, and then she’d catch her “night’s” sleep while he entertained himself and often Plato, too.
Her dog had become thoroughly enamored of Mason. Probably because Mason had the patience to sit on her back deck for hours on end, throwing a tennis ball for the big dog to chase around and retrieve.
Then she’d slip in running a couple miles, come back to shower and fix them another meal, and take herself off to work again.
As simple and straightforward as they could keep it.
On the other hand, she felt ready to climb right out of her skin at what was feeling decidedly…domestic. Not even the prospect of having a baby was enough to keep her sane.
She’d finally settled on a donor.
Number 37892.
And she had an appointment set in a few weeks with her sister-in-law, Mallory, when she intended to ask if she was willing to be Courtney’s obstetrician and help bring her plan to reality.
So far, Mason was still the only other person who knew her plans.
And they certainly weren’t discussing it these days.
Not when their conversations remained strictly centered around the practical matters of his physical care and living under the same roof.
“Come on,” Lisa wheedled, drawing Courtney out of her thoughts. It was nearly five in the morning and their wholly uneventful shift would be ending soon. “Isn’t there even a little bit of…flirting? He’s single. You’re single. You’re living together and everyone in the hospital knows that you were kissing outside the imaging suite after he first got to town.”
Courtney smiled tightly. “That was a month ago,” she reminded Lisa. Wanting to ignore that particular event had proven to be fruitless when everyone in the hospital, and beyond, seemed to be in the know.
She’d hoped that it would die down, when there’d been no additional fuel added to the fire, but that was evidently a futile hope.
“Well, then what do you do while you’re spending all those hours together?”
Courtney could have laughed. “We don’t spend hours together, exactly.” Then she shrugged. “He reads a lot. And I know Axel comes around pretty often when I’m not there.” She had even begun suspecting that the two men were talking business, but she hadn’t asked. Mason’s recovery was continuing fairly smoothly, and that’s the only thing she let herself focus on.
She looked at her watch, but the hands still seemed to be crawling around the numbers. “I’ll be bringing him in to see Dr. Jackman in a few days to get the cast on his arm removed.” Assuming that Mason could manage to wait that long, since she wouldn’t put it past him to saw the thing off himself. If he were more dexterous with his left hand, she’d have been seriously worried he’d try to do just that.
As it was, she had no tools in her garage that he could use to that end, and she’d made Axel promise not to provide any if he were asked.
“That’ll be good,” Lisa was saying. “He’ll be able to do a lot more for himself then.”
Courtney stared at the duty schedule in front of her. “Mmm-hmm.”
And when Mason was able to do more for himself, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d decide to leave even before his leg cast came off. He’d still have difficulty managing some tasks, considering the unwieldiness of the cast, but at least he’d have both his arms usable again.
“Something wrong with the schedule?”
“What?” She glanced at Lisa. “Oh. No. Why?”
“You were frowning at it.”
“Was I?” She pushed away from the desk and went around it to stare out the sliding doors. “I wonder if it’ll snow soon.”
“Hope it doesn’t before Halloween,” Lisa remarked. “Annie’s going to be annoyed if her horse costume is covered up too much by a coat.”
Courtney smiled. Lisa’s six-year-old, Annie, was positively horse crazy. “Even if it is, there’s always the fall festival the day before.” The community event that included games and costumes, dinner and dancing was held every year in the high school gymnasium.
“Are you going?”
Courtney was scheduled to work the night of Halloween, but not the evening of the festival. “Hadn’t thought about it,” she lied.
The truth was, she’d thought about it a lot. Had thought about whether or not she should mention it to Mason. And now, with less than a week remaining before it was to be held, it loomed over her larger than ever.
She wished she’d just brought it up to him a few weeks ago. Then it would have seemed a casual mention. Something for him to do if he were interested, to break the monotony of the days. And if he wasn’t interested, no big deal. She’d go herself, anyway, because she’d promised her niece Chloe that she’d make an appearance at some point.
“Hey.” Wyatt walked through the doors and gave her a curious look as he began pulling off his jacket. “Why’re you just standing there?”
“She’s mooning over Mason,” Lisa said.
Courtney whirled. “I am not!”
Her coworker just grinned wickedly. “You’re sure sounding defensive.”
It was true, but Courtney rolled her eyes anyway. “You guys need more things to do,” she said. “Your imaginations obviously don’t have enough occupying them.” She nodded toward Wyatt. “Maybe you’d do better asking him how his date with Dee went.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot up and she immediately looked at the other nurse. “Well, well. When did this happen and why didn’t I know about it? Where’d you go? What’d you do? Are you taking her out again?”
Happy that the other woman’s attention was so easily diverted, Courtney went back to the nurse’s lounge and signed out. She collected her jacket and purse and quickly left before Lisa could waylay her with more questions.
It was still dark outside, and the air was cold and biting as she climbed into her car. The drive to her house was short—never giving the vehicle’s heater a chance to catch up.
The light over her front door was burning. Mason always turned it on before she got home.
Now that the weather was turning colder, she parked her car in the separate garage located next to her backyard, instead of parking in the driveway close to the front door, and went in through the rear kitchen door.
Plato was sitting on the other side of the door, waiting to greet her.
She dumped her purse and jacket on the table and crouched down next to the dog, rubbing his head. She knew once he’d had a few pats from her, he’d trot right on back to Mason’s room. He’d considered the bed in there his before Mason had arrived, and nothing since then had changed. If anything, her dog seemed to be more interested in attention from Mason than from her. “You’re a good boy,” she whispered to the dog, and straightened.
A roll o
f duct tape was sitting on the counter.
She smiled a little. Mason’s unspoken code that he wasn’t going to wait another day to be allowed another shower.
When it came to that process, they’d worked out a system there, too, though mostly it involved her sitting outside the shower curtain, pouring shampoo into his hand when he needed it, trying not to offer too much assistance and hiding the fact that the entire event kept her nerves honed to a painfully fine edge.
Just thinking about it made her edgy now, too, and she picked up the plastic-wrapped sandwich that sat on the counter next to the tape and unwrapped it as she padded into the dining room. She sat down in front of the computer and navigated to the cryobank website as she chewed the sandwich. Peanut butter and strawberry jam.
Mason had taken to leaving her sandwiches. He said it was just to prove to her that he wasn’t incapable of feeding himself.
Maybe it was true.
The website loaded, and by force of habit, she pulled up the anonymous donor she’d chosen. “Hello, 37892,” she whispered. “How are you this morning? We’re going to make a baby soon.”
Plato, evidently satisfied that she was in for the night, padded out of the dining room and disappeared down the dark hallway.
She propped her chin on her hand and stared at the screen.
The familiar spark of excitement when she thought of her plan to have a family was there. She knew what she wanted and, in her usual way, was going to make it happen.
And if that spark wasn’t quite as bright as it ordinarily was, it was simply because the fantasy of it was becoming a reality. And with reality came worries.
Mason and his “devil’s advocate” comments hadn’t given her anything new to think about. But the closer her plan got to fruition, the more she did think about them.
More accurately, the harder it was to remember that becoming a mother was the bottom line. Not the method in which that occurred.
Nothing had changed since she’d decided on this plan of action.
Nothing except Mason coming back into your life.
She shushed the taunting little voice. Mason wasn’t back in her life. For that matter, he’d never been in her life.
A one-night stand didn’t qualify as “in,” after all.
And what they were doing now was a business arrangement. Also not “in.”
Plato padded back into the room and propped his head on her knee, whining a little.
She rubbed his head. “What’s the matter?”
He turned and headed down the hall, stopping midway to look back at her with another soft whine.
Frowning, she followed him, turning on the hall light as she went.
Mason’s bedroom was dark, but there was enough light from behind her to see where he lay on the bed.
“Mason?” she called his name softly, not wanting to wake him if he were asleep. “You all right?”
He didn’t answer, and she looked down at the dog by her side. Plato was still whining softly.
“Shh.” She slipped her fingers under his collar and nudged him slightly toward her bedroom. “You can sleep with me for a while.”
“Wait.”
The voice was almost soundless.
Alarm exploded inside her, and she went into Mason’s room. When she reached the bed, she could see that his eyes were indeed open. And that his hand was clenched in a fist. “Mason? What’s wrong?”
“Back.” A low oath came out of his clenched teeth. “Spasm.”
She gingerly touched his shoulder. He was so tense, it was like touching a brick wall. “How long have you been like this?”
“Forever.” He gave a half-groaning laugh, then just groaned. “A few hours. Damn it.”
“Can you roll over? I can try some gentle massage. See if it helps.”
“I don’t think I can move,” he muttered.
She had a good idea what the admission cost him. “I can turn you, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t care if you hit me over the head with a sledgehammer and knock me out.”
She toed off her clogs and pressed one knee against the mattress, carefully moving his bed pillows out of the way. “I’m going to move your arms above your head. Slow and easy, okay?” She situated his cast where she wanted it so that it wouldn’t get in her way, and when he didn’t protest that he felt more pain, she slid one hand beneath his casted thigh and worked her other beneath his shoulders. Ordinarily, she would have turned him toward her, but he was too close to the side of the bed, and there was no room for her to stand on the other side. So she rolled him slowly, gently, away from her until he was on his side. “Okay so far?”
“No worse.” His voice was muffled. “This is what I get for flushing the damn pills.”
She didn’t have to guess which pills he meant. “They wouldn’t have stopped a muscle spasm,” she reminded calmly.
“But at least I wouldn’t have cared when I was having one.” He gave a short, rusty-sounding laugh. “That’s a joke.”
“I figured.”
“Good.” He let out a long breath, and then she felt him rolling on his own until he was facedown on the mattress. “I don’t want you worrying that I’m on the edge of relapsing.”
“I wasn’t.” She was familiar with the signs, and he didn’t show any of them. He hadn’t ever, really, not even when he’d first arrived and his pain had been constant. She climbed on the bed next to him, kneeling beside his hip. “Your leg comfortable enough?” The angle of the cast didn’t exactly promote lying facedown.
“I’ll live.”
She moistened her lips. Her hands hovered over him, just above the waistband of his dark gray sweatpants. “Where’s the pain?”
“Everyfreakingwhere. Either do your voodoo or shoot me in the head.”
“Oh, Mason.” She settled her hands gently against the small of his back. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing for me to cut off your shirt.” She didn’t want to cause him more pain by trying to get it off over his head.
“I’m not wasting a perfectly good shirt.”
“How frugal of you.” It was easier to keep talking, because then she wouldn’t be thinking so much about what she was doing.
Her fingertips lightly explored the contours of his back, searching out the areas of tenderness through the cotton knit. It was pretty easy to find the muscle that was cramping. It was hard as a rock beneath the warmth of his skin. Plus, he ground out a curse and stiffened up when she began working around it.
“This would be easier without the shirt.” And with some massage lotion. “Your scars don’t bother me, in case that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a nurse.”
“So was my ex-wife. They sure as hell bothered her.”
She was so surprised by the admission that her hands stopped moving for a moment. Aside from the one time that he’d mentioned he’d been married, he hadn’t referred to it again. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask, since it was clearly outside the bounds of their arrangement. She viciously chewed back the questions that rose in her—how’d they meet? How long were they together?
Did he still carry a torch for her?
Was that why his emotions were off-limits?
“I’m not your ex-wife,” was all she said. She shifted slightly, gradually applying more pressure along his spine in response to the muscles she could feel slowly loosening under her fingers.
“So I’m learning.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, not sure how to take that. “How often does your back get like this?”
She could feel him breathing carefully as she worked. “Happens if I lie around too much. Don’t get enough exercise.”
“What kind of exercise?”
“Chasing bad guys.” His voice turned short.
She swallowed. Chasing them, or being run down by them? She decided to change the subject. “I, um, I confirmed your appointment day after tomorrow to get your arm done.”
“Good.”
&nbs
p; She put a little more of her weight behind her slow, smooth strokes. “If you’re getting cabin fever and want to get out a little, Weaver has a fall festival on Saturday. It’s a fancy term for a Halloween carnival, but there’s food and music and…stuff.”
“Ax told me about it.”
Of course. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought her cousin would mention it. Axel’s wife was one of the local business owners who helped sponsor it.
“You gonna do another kissing booth?”
She was glad his face was turned away from her. “That was just that one time. To, um, to raise money for the school.”
“I remember the line around your booth. You must’ve raised a lot.”
She had, and had earned herself a lot of ribbing from her family as a result. “The event did.”
“But the thing this weekend isn’t a fundraiser?”
“Nope. Just a community event. People dress up in costumes if they like. They’ve held it every year since I can remember.”
“What’re you dressing up as?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” The only thing she’d thought about was whether or not Mason would want to go. And if he’d think she was being too personal by asking him.
“Think you should go as an angel,” he murmured. “My back is actually starting to feel better.”
She snorted softly. “That doesn’t make me angel material.”
“Putting up with me does.”
She moistened her lips. “You’re not so bad,” she managed lightly. “No matter what you think.” She was well aware that he hadn’t said whether or not he was interested in going. Which she was smart enough to realize meant he was not.
“Why’d you invite me to your apartment that night?”
He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d tried. She stared at the back of his head. “Why’d you show up when I did?” she asked without thought.
“I’m a man.” His voice was dry.
She took her cue from that. “And I’m a woman. You think men are the only ones ruled by their sex drives?”
“Generally speaking? Yeah.” He turned his head, and she could feel the weight of his hooded gaze. “I know you weren’t intending to get pregnant then. We used condoms.”
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