by Leah Brooke
Beau’s eyes narrowed, his gaze searching. Moving the blanket aside, he studied her arm. “Your bed’s too small and I didn’t want to accidentally bump you in your sleep.”
His eyes, full of concern as he leaned over her, narrowed as he gently straightened her brace. “You keep trying to roll to your side. You’d hurt like hell if you did, so I put the pillows there.” He lifted her slightly with a hand pressed between her shoulder blades, his hands gentle as he adjusted the pillows around her again.
Struck by the distance in his tone, Charity searched his features for any sign of anger, but found nothing but concern and caring.
She knew her accident had upset him, but she’d expected him to be back to his usual teasing self by now, especially with his pattern of teasing her out of bad moods. She figured he would have been just as determined to tease her in an effort to make her forget about her pain.
The fact that he didn’t worried her.
“I want to sit up.” Before she could move, Beau’s hands slid to her back, the warmth and solidness of them against her body easing some of her soreness. “Just relax. Let me do the work.” His touch remained tender, but with a solid strength that felt incredible as he helped her into a sitting position, holding her there while he slid pillows behind her to prop her up.
“I figured you’d be waking up soon. It’s time for another pain pill.” His gaze sharpened on her face, his eyes filled with concern. He must not have liked what he saw because he clenched his jaw.
Turning away, he picked up the prescription bottle from the nightstand, watching her steadily as he shook out a pill. Holding out his palm, he offered it to her, along with the glass of water that he’d apparently refilled. “Take this and we’ll get you more comfortable.”
Struck by his flat tone, she watched him warily as she took the pain pill from his palm and accepted the glass, never taking her eyes from his as she swallowed the tablet.
Not wanting to bother him any more than necessary so he could get some sleep, Charity braced herself to get up. “Thank you.”
Nodding, Beau accepted the glass from her and placed it back on her nightstand. “I’ll ease you down. Just let me—”
She looked away, her face burning. “I have to use the bathroom.”
“Okay, cher. There’s no reason to look so embarrassed. I’ve seen and touched every part of you.” He threw back the covers and reached for her. “I swear, you worry way too much about things.”
Her breath caught when he slid his arms under her and lifted her against his chest in a show of strength that never failed to warm her and make her feel safe. Because he looked so tired, she felt compelled to protest. “I can walk.”
Cradling her gently, he straightened. “And I can carry you a hell of a lot easier. Be still. I don’t want to jostle you.”
Leaning against him, she noticed for the first time that she wore one of her most comfortable cotton nightgowns, one that had thinned from wear in several places, but that she couldn’t bear to part with. Frowning, she tried to remember arriving back at her apartment and putting it on, but couldn’t.
“I don’t remember putting this on.” Knowing that Beau would see her in it, she probably would have put on something else.
He pushed the bathroom door open, and turning to the side, eased through the doorway and into the small bathroom. “You didn’t.”
Blinking against the light, she tried to focus on his features, her face burning at the thought of Beau undressing her when she’d been asleep. Having a sexual relationship was one thing, but she considered being undressed and put to bed when she’d been unaware of it something entirely different.
Once inside the bathroom, he paused, searching her features as though looking for something. “Your mom and Hope undressed you and put it on you after I carried you in. Hope said it was one of your comfort nightgowns—whatever the hell that is.”
Her relief that he hadn’t been the one to dress her diminished at the sense of loss in his voice that he’d desperately wanted to.
Charity yawned, fighting to lift her head. “It’s something I wear when I don’t feel well. It’s very comfortable.” Frowning, and aware of his gaze moving over her, she shrugged, regretting it immediately as pain shot from her shoulder. “It’s not very attractive, though. Not exactly like the lacy stuff you keep buying me, is it?”
Beau shook his head without a trace of the smile she’d expected. “No. I’ll call Rachel tomorrow and ask her to send over some more like this.” He eased her down, setting it on her feet. Straightening, he held out his hands in an obvious attempt to steady her if she needed it, frowning. “Do you feel dizzy?”
Holding on to the small vanity, she shook her head carefully. “I’m fine. Just give me some privacy.” Her legs shook, her knees felt like rubber, and she had to use the bathroom. Badly.
Beau frowned again, clearly reluctant to leave her. “Fine. I’ll be right outside the door. Call me when you’re done.” His tone hardened, the threat in his eyes undeniable. “I don’t want you trying to walk by yourself.”
Charity nodded and gripped the small countertop, breathing a sigh of relief when he left. She moved as fast as she could to use the bathroom, and then made her way on shaky legs back to the sink.
Washing her hands, the brace making her movements clumsy, she looked up into the mirror, inwardly wincing.
The dark bruise above her cheek drew her attention first. On the left side of her face, it went from her temple down to her cheekbone, and explained why the left side of her face ached.
Still studying her reflection, she dried her hands and probed her cheek, unsurprised to find it slightly swollen.
She pulled the neckline of her nightgown aside to see her shoulder, pushing the brace aside and wincing at the bruise under it. She had another bruise on her chest from the seat belt, which had also cracked her sternum.
She’d already gotten good a good look at her hip, and had been shocked by the size of the bruise there, but felt pretty lucky that it hadn’t been worse.
Running her tongue over her teeth, she grimaced and reached for her toothbrush, wishing she could take a shower. By the time she’d finished brushing her teeth and running a comb through her hair, she was exhausted. Holding on to the bathroom sink, she shivered at the cold, her knees rubbery, all thoughts of taking a shower dissipating.
She thought about trying to make it back to the bedroom on her own, but trembled so badly, she feared she’d fall down before she got there. Wincing as she imagined how much that would hurt, and cursing her own weakness, she called out for Beau, hating the fact that she had to bother him yet again.
* * * *
Beau closed the door behind Charity and went to the bed to straighten the rumpled covers, listening for her as he moved around the room.
Charity had been moving restlessly in the bed for the last hour, and she’d managed to kick the covers off several times.
He’d kept covering her, not liking how cool it had gotten in the small apartment.
She lived above the diner in an older building that didn’t have the insulation it should have, and he’d had to turn the heat up several times in the last few hours in an effort to get it warm enough.
On the way home, he’d tried to convince her that she’d be more comfortable at his house, but she’d dug in her heels and insisted that he bring her home. When he’d persisted, she’d gotten upset, so he’d relented, wanting her to be as comfortable as possible.
He finished with the bed and straightened, turning when he heard his cell phone vibrating. Crossing the room to her dresser, he picked it up and looked at the display, unsurprised to see that the call came from Ace.
“Hello, Ace. You on duty tonight?”
“Getting ready to go home in a bit. I saw the light on upstairs. Is everything okay?”
Beau sighed and moved to the window, pushing the curtain aside and frowning at the amount of cold air that came in. “Charity woke up. It was time for another pa
in pill. I’m waiting for her to finish in the bathroom so I can tuck her back in. This fucking apartment’s freezing.”
“Yeah. I remember those days. There’s extra blankets in the hall closet. Is it too cold in there for her?”
Beau glanced on the bed with the pile of covers. “I turned the heat way up, which I’m sure she’ll complain about in the morning. I found the blankets and have most of them on her bed.”
“How’s the pain?”
Beau rubbed his gritty eyes, and knew he’d have to get a couple more hours of sleep in order to stay as alert as he needed to be for Charity, but he woke up each time she moved. “She winces every time she moves, but tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt. She’s white as a sheet, and I know that some of it’s from the pain.” Running a hand through his hair, Beau sighed. “She’s getting some sleep, though.”
“You sound like you haven’t gotten much. You need us to come over there and give you a break?”
“No. I’ll doze again when she goes back to sleep.” He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep at all if he wasn’t with her.
Ace sighed. “We’ll be over tomorrow to see her. Hope would have come over to spend the night tonight, but she thought the two of you could use some time alone together.”
Hearing the sound of running water, Beau stepped away from the window and moved toward the bathroom. “Tell Hope that Charity’s fine. The doctor just wants her to take it easy until she has a chance to heal. Dillon stopped by earlier with Charity’s purse and cell phone. The cell phone’s destroyed. I’ll get her a new one when I get out.”
“I’ll get Hope to do it. She’s going crazy, trying to figure out ways she can help Charity.” Ace chuckled. “If I know my wife, she’ll get her something pink and girly just to tease her sister. It’ll make them both feel better.”
Beau could hear Charity moving around and wondered what the hell she was up to. He hated to barge in and embarrass her, but listening for the sound of her falling stretched his nerves to the breaking point. “That’s fine.”
Hearing her call his name, he hurried toward the bathroom. “Charity’s calling me. See you tomorrow.” He disconnected and tossed the phone onto her dresser, never slowing his stride. Anxious to get to her in case she’d fallen, he burst through the door, catching it in case she’d fallen behind it.
Seeing her holding on to the sink and shivering, his stomach lurched, and gritting his teeth, he rushed toward her, scared she would fall. “You’re so fucking pale. You look like you’re about to fall on your face.” He took the towel from her hands and tossed it into the sink. “You feel sick?”
“No. Just so damned weak.”
He lifted her, her pitiful attempt to slap at him angering him even more. “Stop fighting me. You’re mine, and I have every right in the world to take care of you.”
“Just help steady me. You’re too tired to be carrying me. Christ, I hate being such a burden.”
“Then stop arguing and let me tuck you in and we can both get some sleep.”
He strode to the bed, and tucked her in, trying not to jar her any more than necessary. “I’m sick and tired of this game we’ve been playing. It’s over. Besides, you’re too weak to fight me.” He adjusted the pillows that would keep her shoulder in place, fighting the urge to gather her against him.
Charity frowned at him. “Since when do you get tired of games? You live for them.”
Leaning over her, he fisted his hands on either side of her head, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to yank her against him, and hold her until he reassured himself that she was safe. “Not anymore. Go back to sleep.”
“My feet are cold.”
Beau moved the end of the bed and reached under the covers to take her feet in his hands. “Cold? They’re like ice!” Remembering how cold and wet her feet had been when they’d found her, he hurriedly adjusted the covers around them. Holding first one, then the other between his hands, he warmed them, watching her battle to keep her eyes open.
“Beau, what did you mean—not anymore? Why don’t you ever smile? Are you sorry you talked me into marrying you?”
Beau couldn’t believe she would even think such a thing. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. I love you, Charity. Nothing’s more important than keeping you safe.” Her feet felt warmer, but still not warm enough to suit him. They seemed so small in his hands, and seeing her looking so tiny amidst the piles of blankets and pillows hit him hard.
He loved her so much, more than she would probably believe, and nothing seemed as important as caring for her and keeping her safe.
“Beau, I feel like something’s wrong.” Her voice had become so weak, it barely reached him.
“You scared the hell out of me. You could have been killed, Charity, or seriously injured. My stomach’s still tied up in knots.”
That was putting it mildly.
Tucking the blankets around her feet, he smiled to ease the concern in her eyes. “Go to sleep, Charity. Your eyes are unfocused and you can’t even keep them open.”
“But—”
“Everything’s going to be fine now. We’re going to get married, and I’m going to be able to keep a closer eye on you. Go to sleep. You’re slurring, and not even making sense.”
He waited, watching her as her eyes closed, only to open, before closing again. He didn’t move as it happened over and over, cursing her stubbornness, and not wanting to do anything that would wake her up again. Satisfied when her eyes closed and stayed closed, he remained motionless, listening to her breathe.
Once her breathing evened out, he got to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door almost all the way, leaving just enough light coming into the room to enable him to watch over her.
Moving back to the chair, he propped his feet on the foot of the bed, moving them close to hers so he would feel her move if he happened to fall asleep.
Settling back, he thought about her concern that something was wrong.
Relieved that she’d agreed to marry him, he didn’t feel as tense as he had before, but he still worried about her injuries.
Playing just didn’t seem as important to him as it had before. He couldn’t explain it, but his thinking had changed dramatically since Charity’s accident.
After the scare she’d given him, he doubted that he would ever be the same again.
Chapter Nine
Dropping her fork, Charity leaned back against the pillows with a sigh. She just didn’t feel like eating anymore. Frustrated that everything seemed to take such an enormous amount of effort, and tired of being tired, she cursed and looked toward the doorway, waiting for Beau to reappear.
Warm and comfortable, she listened to Beau moving around in the kitchen, impatient for him to get back to her. She missed him, but more than that, she missed the Beau she’d known before the accident.
It had been three days since she’d come home from the hospital, and she wanted to get back to normal.
She missed Beau’s grin.
She couldn’t deny that it had been nice being alone with him, but she’d been asleep most of the time, thanks to the pain medicine he kept doling out.
Bored with herself, she knew being stuck in her small apartment must be boring Beau out of his mind.
Sighing, she looked at her plate and then toward the doorway again. She hated the achiness, and the weakness still lingering, and wanted to get back to having Beau look at her with desire in his eyes, instead of guilt and concern.
Since her accident, he’d watched over her like a hawk, and hadn’t left her for more than a few minutes at a time.
He’d been loving, patient, solicitous, and understanding. He’d fixed her meals, given her pain medication, helped her shower and dress, carried her to the living room to watch television when she got bored, and basically waited on her hand and foot.
The playful man she’d fallen in love with, and criticized for his playfulness had been conspicuously absent since her accident.
He’d been replaced by a thoughtful, serious man with watchful eyes—a man who didn’t laugh or tease her at all.
A man who looked like he’d been kicked in the gut.
And it was all her fault.
If she’d only known about the snowstorm, or taken the time to mention to him that she would be going out of town, none of this would have happened.
Beau appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You finished, cher?” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he strode into the room and to her bedside, his graceful movements stirring a hunger inside her, but she knew she didn’t have the strength to see it through. Glancing at her plate, he frowned down at her. “You only ate half of your breakfast.”
Hoping for a smile from him, she reached out and tugged his sleeve, smiling easier now that the swelling in her cheek had gone down. “I keep telling you that I can’t eat as much as you do.”
Beau didn’t smile back as she’d hoped. Instead, he stared down at her steadily, his eyes hard, and with a glimmer concern. “You’re going to eat every bite of your lunch, even if I have to feed you myself.”
She waited until he removed the tray before throwing the covers aside, wincing at the abrupt movement. Lifting her chin, she smiled faintly, hoping to get a reaction from him. “I’m eating lunch downstairs at the diner.”
Beau half turned, his smile cool. “And you think I won’t force feed you in front of your parents?”
Determined to get him to smile, and possibly play a little, she laughed softly. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He threw the covers back over her legs and started out of the room. “That’s where you’re wrong. Stay where you are. I’ll be right back to help you shower and dress. Figure out what you want to wear that’s warm and comfortable. The wind’s picked up again.”
Disappointed that she couldn’t seem to get a rise out of him, Charity frowned at his back. “Beau?”
He paused in the doorway and turned back abruptly, glancing from the tray to her. “You didn’t take your pain pill.”