by Selena Blake
“Taking care of everyone else?”
She shrugged and cuddled Gizmo close.
“It’s not a bad thing, Gretchen. I just...” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
“You just...”
“I guess I wonder who takes care of you? You change your own tires, you teach a class full of children, you take care of your friend’s cat and your other friend’s brother. Who takes care of you?”
Her gaze drifted away and her eyes moved back and forth like she was reading something on the floor. “No one. But that’s okay. I don’t mind changing my tires, someone’s got to wrangle the hellions, Gizmo is a sweetheart and you’re not too bad.”
Maybe she wasn’t an angel but a saint. Yeah. That fit.
St. Gretchen.
The thought brought a smile to his lips. It was amazing he could smile at all after the trauma of the accident, but with her sharp sense of humor, he found himself smiling plenty. When he wasn’t being a jerk.
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. The movement stretched his back and eased some of the tension.
“About earlier.”
She stopped petting the cat. “Earlier?”
“I didn’t mean what I said. Not the way it sounded.” Why wouldn’t she look at him? “I just meant–Damn, this isn’t coming out right either. You didn’t have to do all this. Feed everyone. Take me in. But I really appreciate it. My brothers can be, well–”
“Brothers,” she interrupted with a laugh.
“Yeah. And JJ, I was worried she was going to cry on me.”
“You could have handled it.”
“I know. I just,” he swallowed. “I just wish that none of it had happened, starting with the accident.”
He could barely push the words out of his lips, hating that he sounded ungrateful for her care. That hadn’t come out right either. He sighed and sat back, closing his eyes. How long until he stopped hearing the tires squealing? How long until he felt normal again? Able to move without aching?
“I can understand that. I think that’s natural.” He heard her move. “I’ve got some work to finish up. I’ll leave the remote with you.”
There she went again, making sure he was comfortable. At home.
“Why don’t you go keep Mr. Greg company, hmm? He could use some cheering up,” she whispered and he realized she was talking to Gizmo.
A few seconds after her footsteps faded Gizmo nudged his arm.
Sighing, he stared down at the cat. “I really messed that up, didn’t I?”
He couldn’t remember ever making a woman cry before. There might have been tears post breakup, but he always tried to let a woman down easy and only once he was absolutely sure that the relationship wasn’t going to pan out. Half the time, his girlfriends had seemed relieved. And Sarah, the last woman he’d dated had texted him three months later to say ‘thank you.’
But Gretchen, she was different. Sarah had been highly focused on her career and moving up in the world. Elizabeth hadn’t wanted children. Rachel, well, there was a nut in every bowl of trail mix.
Gretchen was sweet and level headed, funny and obviously loved kids. Not to mention, she was good with his family. How had he gotten his foot so far down his throat? He’d only been here for forty eight hours.
Evidently forty eight hours was all he needed to go slowly crazy, develop a crush and hurt a woman who’d been nothing but nice to him.
And the worst part was, he didn’t know how to fix any of it.
Sighing, he slowly pushed to his feet. By his estimation it was about time for another pill. Damn, he hated those things. Not so much the pill itself, and certainly not the brief relief they provided, but needing them in the first place.
He made his way down the hall, past a row of pictures of the girls, and paused at her office door. She was humming a tune as she jotted down notes with a hot pink pen. He tapped his knuckles against the doorframe and her head popped up.
“Time for another pill,” he said lamely.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He noticed her glance at the clock on the wall before spinning in her chair. He envied the lightning fast movement as she reached for the bottle of pills still sitting on the tray atop the daybed. “Here you go.”
This time she didn’t hand him one; she offered him the bottle. Was this her way of telling him he could take care of himself?
She plopped down in her chair and picked up the pen again. “You ought to take a shower. The heat will relax your muscles. I always sleep better after a nice hot bath,” she said the words as she finished writing.
No. She was still thinking about his comfort even though she was busy.
Twenty minutes later, Greg cursed the idea of taking a shower. Technically he cursed out loud. Stepping into the tub had hurt his lower back, but lifting his hands to massage shampoo into his scalp sent a fiery pain straight down between his shoulder blades. He was such a wuss.
He leaned heavily against the wall and let the water pelt him. The shampoo washed away and he closed his eyes. He never should have gotten in that car. Who knew what would be different if he hadn’t? Maybe his absence would have sped up the day and Peter might still be alive. Or maybe they would have decided not to go to play Frisbee golf. He wouldn’t have gotten into an accident that left him drained and out of sorts and he wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty for being alive.
“Everything all right in there?”
Gretchen’s voice came through the door, reminding him that he was still very much alive and very much in pain. Stupid drugs. Stupid accident. Stupid shoulders.
When he didn’t answer she called his name.
“Yeah?”
“Want help?”
Two words. How did two words make him feel so shattered? So inept?
Hell no, he didn’t want help. He wanted his life back. Just dial it back to Thursday afternoon. No car accident. No pain. No Gretchen Mascoe.
That last thought didn’t sit well.
“Yes,” he admitted.
The door opened immediately and he didn’t even care that he was nude and she might be completely scandalized by that. But when she appeared in front of the shower a second later he saw a faint outline against the curtain. She reached around the back and held out a towel.
He huffed out a laugh and slowly wrapped it around his hips. Stupid shoulders. He tugged the curtain open a bit and then leaned back against the wall.
She tried to smother her gasp, but he heard it.
“That bruise is awful,” she whispered and then looked away.
“Yeah.”
She grabbed his bottle of shampoo and flipped open the cap with her thumb. He hadn’t noticed before, but her nails were painted the softest shade of pink. Despite her sass, she really was what he’d call innocent. Was that what made her so alluring?
He didn’t bother to tell her about his failed attempt to wash his hair. And she was right, he probably had taken it easier today. He was paying for all the exertion now.
She held the bottle up and sniffed. “Figures.”
“What?” He pushed away from the wall with a sigh.
“Your shampoo smells delicious.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of that so he dunked his head back under the hot spray and got his hair wet again.
“It’s just distracting is all.”
“You’d rather I smell bad?” he asked wryly, as she rubbed her hands together. Then she was reaching for his hair, her fingers threading through to massage his scalp.
He grit his teeth together.
“Does that hurt?” she asked quietly, pulling her hands back a few inches.
He glanced up at her, took in the riot of dark brown hair, the red shimmering highlights and big brown eyes. Eyes that were presently filled with worry and concern. Ordinarily, he found worry warts tiring and stayed as far away as possible. But she only seemed to worry about him. Otherwise, she was as free and easy going as a sparrow.
“The opposite, actually.”
H
e didn’t dare admit just how good her touch felt. Was it her or was it having his hair washed by a woman? It had to be her, especially since he knew what a passionate creature lay hidden beneath her sweet exterior. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again.
“Oh–” A tiny frown curved her lips down and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a cuter expression. He confused her; he also adored her.
“You’re not hurting me, I promise,” he said, eager to feel her touch again. Who was he kidding? It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t used to denying himself.
She worked her fingers into his hair, across the crown of his head and down the back. Each touch sent a shiver of pleasure through him. And with each brush of her fingertips he wanted more, he wanted to drop the towel and feel those masterful hands everywhere. He closed his eyes and reined in the desire storming through him like wildfire. He thought of his brother and the way he’d been looking at Gretchen tonight.
Her fingertips massaged the nape of his neck, up behind his ears and all too quickly, she was done. He missed her touch the instant that she pulled away. He also missed the way the rest of the pain faded into the background when she touched him.
“You can rinse now.” Her voice was quiet and soft, luring him further.
He tipped his head forward and she sucked in a startled breath. “Did I get you?” And why did the thought of splattering her with water make him want to pull her beneath the spray?
“Just a little.”
After washing the suds from his face he turned to see her shirt splattered with water. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Here, you missed a spot.” She ran her hands through his hair again. Seeming sure that he was well rinsed, she stretched a little farther and wiggled her fingers in the water. The movement brought her breasts right into his line of sight. Holy hell.
He’d been trying in vain to keep his eyes off of that part of her anatomy for two days. But not noticing the lush swells beneath her t-shirt as it molded to her figure…Yeah, he had a greater chance of sleeping without a backache tonight. “Need me to wash anything else?”
He snapped his gaze up to her face and saw that she was looking at a wash cloth. Once again, he’d been oogling her and she was in caretaker mode. What would it take to make her see him as a man who wanted her rather than needed her help?
Her gaze flicked to his and she saw the curiosity there. His silence was confusing her once again.
Though her question was innocent enough, for a moment he wondered what she’d say if he answered truthfully; if he admitted out loud that he wanted her hands all over his body?
He couldn’t help himself, so he said the one thing that would get her touching him again.
“My shoulders? The crutches help the knee but the shoulders pay the price.”
“Aww,” she murmured reaching for the blue bar of soap. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
She was incredibly gentle as she ran the soapy cloth over his right shoulder, down his arm and then across the top of his chest.
How the hell did she remain so impartial? He was half a second from a hard-on and she was inspecting his bruise like it was a puzzle.
He sucked in a sharp breath when she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Fire burned in his stomach and the restraint it took to keep from pulling her into his arms almost made his bones snap.
“Sorry,” she whispered again.
But as quick as she’d put herself in his line of sight, she was out again. She stepped down from the edge of the tub telling him to rinse off and rustled beneath the sink giving him a fantastic view of her ass.
Keeping a tight grip on the towel around his waist, he bit back a groan and stared up at the ceiling. The movement hurt his neck so he dropped his chin and squinted his eyes shut. Don’t look at her. Wipe the image right out of your mind Fairchild.
“Here.”
The single word popped his eyelids open and he saw her stepping back up onto the edge of the tub, a fluffy pink towel in her hands. “I guess it’s time to do laundry,” she murmured as she slicked the towel across his head, soaking up the water droplets. “I’m down to my pink towels from college.”
Hell. He needed her out of the bathroom. Out of his personal space before–
Her gasp echoed in his ears as she slipped. She put an arm out and collided with the far wall of the shower but wasn’t able to fully catch herself. His hands shot out, catching her around the waist. Once again, touching her wiped the pain right out of his mind and all he felt was her. Warm and supple, her breath hitched in and out of her chest. And those eyes, so big and brown and startled. Then she laughed nervously and pulled her arm back to her side.
“Wet spot.” She grimaced as she rubbed her elbow. “Sorry.”
Get your mind out of the gutter, Fairchild. She meant water on the tub, not— He cut the thought off and took a deep, slow breath to get himself under control.
“Don’t apologize. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She crinkled up her nose. No, that was the cutest expression he’d ever seen. “Just tweaked it. Think you can, ugh, manage?”
Her stutter was endearing as hell and the way she was looking at his chest, as if she’d never seen a man’s chest up close and personal…
Double hell. She wasn’t...No. She couldn’t be.
When she lifted her gaze to his, questions of her experience level disappeared. Her irises were wide open and she stared at him like she wanted him. Her lips parted ever so slightly and it was the sexiest invitation he’d ever seen. Did she even realize it?
His cock stirred against the towel, wanting her touch, those lips.
Holy fuck.
“I’ll um...”
He flexed his hands, not wanting to let her go.
He ducked his head a fraction to the left and heard her sigh. It was such a small sound but filled with incredible anticipation. Whatever this thing between them was…it was so strong, he wanted, no needed to see where it led. He pulled her forward another inch and her lips parted farther. There was no guile in her eyes, only desire.
Sweet, innocent, delicious…kissable. Two kisses in one day were not going to be nearly enough. He started to lift his hand to cup her cheek but she stepped back.
“I’ll leave you to it.” She draped the towel over his right arm and scrambled out of the shower. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
You, he almost said.
Greg had just gotten settled against a fortress of pillows, laptop in his lap when there was a knock at the door. It felt tremendously odd to invite Gretchen into her own bedroom but he called out to her anyway.
She stuck her head in and a strand of that amazing hair fell across her chin. “Oh good. I’m glad you’re getting settled. I just need to grab a change of clothes for work in the morning.”
He swept his hand in the direction of her closet. “By all means. It’s your house. Your room.”
A small smile graced her lips as she stepped into the room. “What are you working on?”
Her movements were quick, almost like a nervous rabbit as she pulled open drawer after drawer.
He’d made her uncomfortable somehow. She’d been right there with him during the kiss in the kitchen earlier. He knew when a woman wanted him. What had changed for her? His family? Had they spooked her? He didn’t think so. She seemed to genuinely enjoy them. Maybe it was all the wedding talk with JJ.
“Catching up on email. Organizing my massively growing to do list,” he said.
She opened her closet and stepped back, looking left then right. It was a small, tidy space organized by color. Unlike some of the women he knew, she wasn’t a clothes hoarder by any stretch of the imagination.
“Did the guys get you a new cell phone?”
He glanced over at the box sitting atop his duffel bag. “Yeah. Haven’t turned it on yet.”
“Well, you’ve got my cell number...in case you need anything while I’m at work. I ugh, I’m usually home by four.”
“Gretchen.”
She stopped and spun toward him. Why was she so uncomfortable? He’d been amazed at how quickly she’d jumped into action, seeing to his needs, rescuing him from that bloody hospital.
Damn it if he didn’t want to go all the way, take her in his arms and kiss that worried expression right off her pretty face.
Instead, he would settle for feeling her soft, warm skin against his again. He held out his hand, flipped palm up and bit back a curse at the shitty timing of it all. Then again, if he hadn’t been in that car accident, he might have missed her completely. The thought of never knowing her like this, never experiencing the fire running through his veins every time her mouth parted and reminded him how perfectly she fit against him…no, he wasn’t going there. She was here. He was here and by God, he was going to make the most of their time together.
She stared down at his hand and tugged the left side of her lower lip between her teeth. Damn if that didn’t turn him on and send fire to his belly. Why couldn’t he have noticed her before the accident? Why did her touch seem to cure his aches?
Say something, Fairchild. You’re scaring her.
“I–umm–I have this theory. Would you help me out?”
She was still staring at his upturned hand when she said “yeah.”
“Would you hold my hand?” Did that sound as lame out loud as it did in his head? But he had to know. “For some reason, when you touch me...this is going to sound crazy or creepy but, the pain goes away. I want to see if it happens again.”
“When I touch you the pain goes away?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion.
He huffed out a short laugh that made his bruised ribs ache. “When you put it like that it sounds like the worst come-on of all time.”
Snatching his hand back, he used the touchpad on his laptop to navigate to his email program. He was going to forget what he’d just said, wipe the insanity right out of his brain. A touch couldn’t drive the aches from his bones.
He was getting close to putting his condo on the market which meant lots of final details, dealing with the Realtor, and hunting for his next project. Not to mention the clients he needed to take care of. More than anything he didn’t want to be one of those flighty construction guys who said they’d call but didn’t or never stuck to a schedule. He didn’t want to be the asshole who hit on his sister’s best friend either.